To make this moment last
by gingermusicalphan
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has goals. Graduate in 2 years, then do whatever it takes to free America. When he meets a likeminded group of revolutionaries, one of them, John Laurens, quickly becomes his closest friend. But can the men become more? And with the pressures of war and women, will they manage to stay that way? Laurens x Hamilton multi-chapter fanfic.
1. Chapter 1 - Something to be a part of

**A/N: wow, this is going to be my first multi-chapter story! I wanted to write something other than Hamilton but a guest left such a nice comment on my last one-shot "Tomorrow there'll be more of us" that it inspired me to write a longer fanfic about John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton. Guest, if you're out there, I am so grateful for your comment, I honestly cried at it! So this is dedicated to my mystery guest! ONWARDS INTO BATTLE!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hamilton. If I did then I would make a movie already. (Not that I blame Lin for not making one yet, I just really would love to see it with the original cast, even on DVD.)**

"Listen, Hamilton, you want my advice?" Burr asked the younger man, who eagerly nodded, delighted to finally be talking with someone who had a mindset which seemed to resemble his own.

"Talk less, smile more. That way you can get ahead without showing your enemies how they can manipulate you."

Immediately Hamilton's face crumpled, at first disheartened that this blatantly intelligent man was so reserved in pursuing his goals, and then irritated that he was wasting his time talking to someone who was happy to just stand around watching life pass him by.

"With respect, are you serious, sir?" He queried.

"Deadly," Burr replied. His face showed no trace of doubt in his beliefs.

Hamilton grimaced and began walking away, remarking as he did so, "If you stand for nothing, Burr, what will you fall for?"

Burr gave a half hearted smile. He could understand why the other man scorned his approach, but he still didn't appreciate the obvious disdain Hamilton had for him.

His expression quickly changed to one of irritation when, from a few metres away, a shout of "That's what I've been telling him! But does he listen?"

Hamilton whipped around to see three men lounging around a low table in the bar. One was in his mid-20's, wearing a uniform which Hamilton recognized to be French. His dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and a trace of facial hair accentuated his elegant features. Another was heavy-set, and clearly the oldest of the group, with cropped hair covered with a hat and wearing a suit which looked to be professionally tailored. The third man, the one who had spoken, was about the same age as Hamilton, and wore a wide grin spread across his face. Most of his hair was tied back, but a few dark brunette curls escaped the confines of the hair tie and framed his face delicately. His eyes seemed to glow with triumph, passion and, when he turned his attention to Hamilton, the kind of studious interest which caused his heart to quicken.

"It doesn't look like it," Hamilton replied, barely missing a beat as he analysed the group which had taken an interest in him.

"Well, you seem like the kind of man who doesn't sit around like Mr Burr," the oldest man commented, as the other two raised a glass in unison towards Burr as they called out, "Sir!"

Hamilton chuckled at Burr's scowl, and the friendly sound prompted the Frenchman to lift his feet from where they lay on a stool and ask the newcomer, "join us for a drink?"

Hamilton sat and watched the trio examine him. Again his heart seemed to race faster inside his chest.

The moment of scrutiny was soon ended, however, when the oldest man asked, "well, what's your name?"

"Alexander Hamilton," he replied, as the men all nodded.

"John Laurens," the youngest man introduced himself, taking one of Hamilton's hands in his as he shook it enthusiastically, a warm, sunny smile dancing about his face and seeming to light him up from within.

"Hercules Mulligan," the oldest man introduced, replacing Laurens' hand with his own, adding, "tailor by trade... and an occasional spy."

"Right," Hamilton chuckled.

"Et je m'appelle Lafayette," the Frenchman added.

"So what's your deal, Alexander?" Laurens asked.

Hamilton pondered for a second, quickly forming an outline to his speech from the words which floated in his mind.

"First, I have to graduate college - I was talking to Burr because I want to do it in two years, like him. But my main priority is fighting to free America from Britain and it's tyrannical greed. It's completely ridiculous that a man half way across the world has complete control of this country, and it has to end. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to release us from king George's grasp, and I don't care who's toes I have to step on to get ahead. Hell, I'd gladly give my own life to aid the cause - I know it would be worth it if it allows this country to become the kind of place it could be under fair leadership and with a strong economy."

When he finished talking, the men were watching him with unreadable expressions. Alexander began to shuffle uncomfortably, fearing he might already have scared off the first people who were as passionate as he was.

But then Laurens started grinning again, and reached to shake Hamilton's hand once more as he explained, "us too. And I think your way with words is just what we need to make a difference."

Hamilton smiled with relief, and quickly Lafayette and Mulligan joined in with Laurens' praise and both offered to buy him a drink. To Hamilton, who had always been alone, the approval of the three men felt like a warm blanket which wrapped around him protectively.

"You know what," Hamilton answered, "we might be here a while, so this round's on me."

He had to laugh as the three men cheered at his declaration.

The evening full of good alcohol and better conversation seemed to fly by, and Alexander relished every second: for the first time in his life he felt like he belonged somewhere, like he was a part of something, that for the first time since his mother died, someone actually gave a damn about what he thought. And he was really starting to enjoy the feeling of Laurens' eyes burning into him every so often with that brilliant glow of curiosity and, as they got to know each other, a flicker of affection.

As the alcohol began to lay a fog over his brain, Hamilton started finding it harder to focus on Mulligan and Lafayette, who had become more quiet as they became increasingly drunk, and instead found himself gazing at Laurens, unable to look away from the curls which looked so soft or the freckles which were scattered on his cheeks like tiny constellations.

Laurens turned to face Alexander again, and caught the other man staring. Embarrassed, Hamilton looked away, but Laurens just laughed as his new friend blushed. He placed a light hand on Hamilton's shoulder and leaned in to murmur, "These two are pretty much out of it... we should go sit at the bar and leave them in peace."

Hamilton tore his gaze away from Laurens to look at the other men, and noticed that both were barely keeping their tired eyes open. Silently, he nodded and allowed Laurens to steer him over to the bar.

Looking around, he noticed that the place had emptied, and the only person other than the four revolutionaries was a single barman who stood at the other end of the room with his back to them.

"What's the time?" Hamilton asked.

"Almost 1," Laurens replied, checking his pocket watch.

"Crap, classes start tomorrow," Hamilton muttered, the crease in his brow making Laurens smile. Hamilton was quickly growing to love that smile, it was loose and warm and genuine, which seemed to sum up Laurens' personality as a whole.

"Worried about the hangover?"

"Aren't you, after drinking so much?"

"Nope," Laurens explained, "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's holding my drink. Those two," he gestured to Lafayette and Mulligan, "are bound to wake up with a splitting headache, while I always remember exactly what took place the night before. Which means," he continued, with a hint of mischief creeping into his voice, "anything you or I do or say from here on in will stay between us two." Alexander thought he saw John wink, but he couldn't be certain - his vision was slightly blurred around the edges.

Unsure, Hamilton nodded, quiet for a moment. After a while he commented, "Out of all the injustices in the world, what made you so passionate about ending slavery?"

Laurens looked away pensively, his eyes suddenly taken over by a serious determination Hamilton hadn't yet seen. "It's just so _wrong_ , Alexander. I grew up around it and yet I could never for one heartbeat comprehend what gave my father the right to steal these people, these humans just like you and I, and exploit them like animals. I know that we deserve to live in a world of equality for everyone, regardless of race, or gender, or... anything else," he glanced back towards Hamilton as he said _"anything else"_ with a smirk which seemed so confident, as if he knew something Alex didn't.

Maybe it was spurred on by the determination in Laurens' eyes, or the way he spoke with such conviction the same words which drifted through his own head, or that suggestive smirk, or just a combination of all of those things with the alcohol, but for some reason Hamilton couldn't name or understand he found himself suddenly drawn towards the other man. Or more specifically, his lips. Captivated and at least half drunk, as if some hidden force was compelling him, Alexander closed his weary eyes and found himself tentatively leaning forwards ever so slowly... a thrill of energy sparked through him when he brought his mouth to touch John Laurens', capturing the smirk and enveloping it in his own lips as he lost himself in the unexpected pleasure of kissing the young man.


	2. Chapter 2 - When your mouth is on mine

**A/N welcome to chapter 2! **applauds self for actually writing more than one chapter** I have nothing to say, just thanks for reading! Or even accidentally clicking on this!**

 **Disclaimer: you know the drill. I will never be enough of a genius to create something anywhere near as good as Hamilton, let alone the actual show.**

* * *

The warm taste of Laurens' mouth obediently moving against his own mingled with the bitter flavour of cheap beer, which somehow seemed so much more edible when he was tasting it from the lips of the beautiful young man. Neither of the pair had any idea how long the kiss lasted, only that it felt like a long time; Alexander was gently but firmly pressing his lips as close as possible to Laurens' as his tongue curiously explored the other man's mouth, meanwhile Laurens sat there passively letting Alexander experiment with him, the smirk on his face even wider than before in response to the unexpected move from Hamilton.

When the kiss ended it was as slow and tentative as the start had been. Hamilton softly disentangled Laurens' lips from his own and leaned back. He heard the other teen gasp a little as Alexander drew back. His laborious movements, caused by the sheer amount of alcohol he had drunk in that short night, meant it took a few seconds for him to force his heavy-lidded eyes to open again. When he did he registered a satisfied smile playing on John's slightly parted lips and a single raised eyebrow, as if a suspicion had been confirmed. Also was a feature too demure and sweet to belong on the face of a man who had just allowed a near-stranger to kiss him the way Hamilton had just kissed Laurens: a delicate rosy blush dusting his freckled cheeks.

Alexander blinked slowly as the reality and gravity of what he had just done settled over him. His mind, usually so clear, was half submerged in the foggy haze of beer and he struggled to decipher if Laurens' smile was one of friendly warmth or furious fire. His eyes widened into huge dark pools of uncertainty and confusion, and even a hint of fear at what Laurens might do: Hamilton knew some of the men on his home island had been banished there for being gay, and for a second he feared that Laurens might use what he had just done to get him sent back into hell.

But he wasn't gay, just drunk and stupid.

"L - Laurens, I'm sorry, I didn't mean -"

Laurens cut him off with a laugh. It wasn't cruel or plotting, just a kind, happy sound which instantly calmed Alexander's nerves.

"No problem, Hamilton," he reassured, "so please don't apologise."

He was smiling brilliantly until he noticed Hamilton's unmistakable sigh of relief. The noise prompted him to lean in and whisper, so close to the other man's ear that the heat of Laurens' breath could be felt on his neck and displaced his hair so it tickled his face, "The barman's gone. Lafayette and Mulligan are out of it. So like I said," he pulled away from Hamilton's ear so that he could look directly into his eyes, "this can stay between us." That mischievous smirk was back, and this time he was sure Laurens winked.

The young man stood from the bar stool and took a step towards the table they had been sat at, surprising Hamilton.

"Where are you going?" the newcomer asked, trying not to let the alcohol slur his sudden words.

"Time to get these two home," he explained, hooking an arm around the torso of each man and lifting them from their slumped positions just high enough to adjust their slumbering forms and lean them against him.

"Don't you want a hand?" Hamilton offered, suddenly alarmed at the departure of the group he had quickly become a part of.

Laurens seemed to read him, narrowing his eyes for a moment as they filled with intelligent curiosity, then chuckled at the words he found written on Hamilton's face.

"I'm used to it. But don't worry, Alexander, we'll meet again..."

As Hamilton looked about to protest, he silence him with another grin and the statement, "I promise."

He waited for Hamilton to return the smile, albeit a little more sloppy than it would have been if he were sober. Then, without another word, Laurens turned away, hauling the two men along with him. Hamilton had to admire the way the slight man somehow managed to make carrying two drunk men out of a bar look effortless.

He shook his head. The bar was empty, so he felt comfortable enough to slouch against the bar without fear of someone pressing him for the details which he was too afraid to share.

He couldn't comprehend what had made him want to kiss Laurens. It was probably nothing more than the alcohol, or perhaps even that he would have formed a quick bond with anyone who seemed to care after all the experience he'd had of being ignored, as hard as he tried to make himself noticed. And yet, the spark he'd felt when their lips had met suggested that, just maybe, it was something more.

But then, Laurens seemed perfectly calm about it. Actually, Laurens had seemed to enjoy it more than Hamilton should have expected. Although, from what he'd seen in the few hours that he'd know the man, that was just how he was: a huge flirt.

Hamilton couldn't stop debating what the events of the night meant. But regardless of the kiss, he felt certain that he'd found the right people to progress with. Comforted by the thought, he stood, swaying slightly, and headed back to his accommodation.

* * *

The sky was a cold blue, the kind of colour which reminded Hamilton of ominous storm clouds just before an enormous volume of rain was released. He had finished his first day of college and was wandering across the campus to the gate, intending to return to the bar with the hope of seeing Lafayette, Mulligan and Laurens again. Instead, as he left the campus and made his way towards the town centre, he discovered a large crowd of people gathered in the square. Eager to learn more, he pushed his way in amongst the throng of tightly packed bodies.

Just a few rows from the front of the group, a familiar voice greeted him, "Alexander?"

Hamilton turned to face the taller man, and replied, "Aaron Burr," recalling as an after-thought the way the others had teased him, he added with a smug grin, "Sir!"

Burr only chuckled, before quickly turning his attention to the speaker at the centre of the crowd. A man, perhaps a farmer, with an easily identifiable British accent stood on a platform, calling out pleas to the listening crowd:

"These rebels claim that they will drive the King out of this country! They spread cruel lies about his leadership, attempting to fool others into hating him. But I ask you, is overthrowing a reliable ruler and the guarantee of him having generations of successors in the interests of this country? Of course not! These people are intent only on wreaking havoc for the hard working Britons who have made this country what it is today."

A polite round of applause made its way around the listening circle of people.

"How is this whole crowd believing that crap?" Hamilton muttered under his breath.

"Not the whole crowd," Burr murmured, nodding to a spot just opposite them in the crowd where Hamilton recognized his friends from the night before stood muttering discontentedly amongst themselves and occasionally casting death glares at the farmer.

Laurens looked up just as Hamilton's eyes rested on them, and he excitedly whispered to the other men. Hamilton couldn't make out what he was saying, but within seconds all three were staring at him with wide eyes, almost manic with delight, as if they were expecting something from him. Well, he hadn't let someone down in his life so far... Hamilton's mind began to whirl faster, as though a hurricane was tearing through it, pulling together fractions of sentences to form eloquent paragraphs as sentences started forming behind his eyes.

"Burr, who is this man?" He queried.

"Samuel Seabury. Royalist," Burr answered.

Hamilton nodded slowly, easing his way further in to the dense crowd. "I think I have something to say to this guy..."


	3. Chapter 3 - Playing a dangerous game

**A/N: we made it to chapter 3, people! Wooo! **high fives self**. Thanks to anyone who reviewed, followed or favorited any of my ffanfictions, it means a lot. I had to do some research into 's military career for this one, it was all very interesting (all 2 sentences of it.) Well, without further ado, ONWARDS!**

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"Hamilton, _please_ just let him be!" Burr reached out to grab his sleeve, attempting to stop the student from causing a scene. But the young man could never refuse to back down from any idea which ever crossed his mind, and he was definitely not going to start now.

Glancing back at Burr, he remarked, "Burr, I'd rather be divisive than stand back doing nothing." A dark shadow of annoyance settled upon Burr's strong facial features, and he released the man as if he was dropping some object he despised or resented. Undeterred, Hamilton strode forwards, encouraged by the way his three friends' smiles grew even wider as he did so, the confidence he exuded in every step causing the crowd to part as if they were the red sea and he was Moses.

Lafayette, Laurens and Hercules started to whoop and holler uncontrollably as Hamilton entered the space at the centre of the circle. Seabury slowly grew quieter until he finally stopped talking, turning to Hamilton with raised eyebrows and a slight pout on his lips, his irritation at the interruption made evident from his expression.

Hamilton turned to the confused crowd and began to speak:

"He'd have you all flee at even the slightest whisper of unrest, just think how terrified he must be from the screams of discontent coming from every part of this country. What he seems so adamant about is in fact a false fabrication - the revolution is coming, and the underdogs, these rebels Seabury speaks so fondly of will win this! It's admirable that you're humouring this deluded idiot by listening to his lies... But personally, the only thing stopping me from laughing in his face is that the gross spreading of blatant misinformation ignites such sobering fury in me!"

A mumble of discontent arose from the gathering of people, with a dark, dangerous tone to it which made it seem so much more meaningful than the polite applause in response to Seabury's speech. Alexander made eye contact with John Laurens, feeling a bolt of energy surge through him and compel him to continue his passionate argument with the British farmer. Hamilton stepped onto the platform beside him to an excited murmur from the crowd.

Encouraged, Hamilton turned to face the farmer directly and continued, "This ordinary man masquerades as some political spokesperson, when it's obvious that he's nothing special, just another scaremongerer attacking the fears of his fellow citizens. He's no better than a dog, and he's mangy enough to pass as one!"

A few shouts of agreement and bursts of laughter went up from in the gathered people, the loudest coming from the three men he knew and loved who had moved to the very front of the audience.

Seabury had turned a deep scarlet as his pale skin blushed furiously at the insults Hamilton had flung aggressively at him. He turned to the crowd, desperately pleading for their support once more, but Hamilton's words seemed to have changed something within them: the way he begged the crowd seemed feeble and pathetic compared to the brutal, engaging way Alexander had addressed them.

"Listen to me! This man is just the kind of rebel we must avoid! He has no idea -"

The crowd shouted him down before he could say anything to change their minds.

Hamilton smirked at him and offered, "You and I could continue to debate if you had even an ounce of courage... But I doubt you could deny the truth in any of what I've just said."

Turning back to the crowd he shouted, "And if anyone is concerned about whether or not we have your best interests at heart, ask yourself - should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea? _This_ is what we are saving you from! The have-nots _will_ win justice for America!"

The entire crowd erupted into cheers as Hamilton grinned, absorbing their approval, feeling it wash over his skin and sink into his core, brightening the glowing light he felt inside.

Then suddenly Laurens, Lafayette and Mulligan were beside him, smiling at their friend's victory. Lafayette and Mulligan each slung an arm around his shoulders while Laurens walked ahead of the trio, somehow finding a path for them to slip through and escape the dense crowd. As soon as Hamilton left the centre, the gathering began to split up into small groups of people who chatted animatedly amongst themselves, men, women and children who were all equally interested - in that moment, at least - in politics. Seabury was left alone on his wooden platform. His slumped shoulders gave away his feelings of complete and total defeat, and he slinked off down some alleyway to sulk.

Meanwhile the four men celebrated, slapping firm hands on Hamilton's back or quoting sections of his speech as they joked about the British man's delusions.

"You tore that guy apart," Hercules commented, the admiration clearly visible in his face.

"Good thing, too. I don't think he'll do any more of his stupid lectures on how great Britain is for a while, at least," Laurens added, his approving nod causing his curly hair to bounce in its ponytail.

"Pure brilliance," Lafayette remarked.

"So, Alex," Laurens' eyes glittered with mischief and his familiar smirk spread across his face as he asked, "what else can you do?"

Hamilton raised a single, curious eyebrow. "Have I not impressed you enough?"

Laurens grinned his loose, friendly smile as he replied, "You have. But do you have anything more to give?"

Hamilton sensed some other question hiding behind the one the teen had asked, but his mouth began speaking before his head even had time to process it.

"Well, you know I'm studying at college. But I'm also part of a volunteer militia which I train with every morning. I've already been offered promotions, but I'd rather wait and become known for glory on the battlefield than tactical wisdom."

Hercules and Lafayette quietly looked between the two men, watching one bragging as the other bit his bottom lip, his eyes bright with the flame of something they couldn't identify. Instead of pondering Laurens' intentions they focused on observing the way the other man grew in confidence when he recognized John's obvious ratification.

"I also stole British cannons while under fire from HMS Asia," he continued, "and did I mention being placed in charge of the trade and charter of my island at the age of 14?"

Laurens regarded him with warmth and affection as he quipped, "Well, aren't you just _great_?"

As much as he tried to suppress the feeling deep inside himself, the way Laurens was making such a show of his fascination with him caused a rush of heat to dart across his skin, and something inexplicable and raw stirred within him, originating from the depths of his stomach and rising up through his chest.

And of course, those brilliant eyes which seemed to gaze directly into his soul made him feel so appreciated. He felt like he couldn't ever explain how good it felt for someone, especially someone like Laurens, to not just acknowledge you but to genuinely care about you after a lifetime of solitude. Regardless of what had happened that night in the bar, he felt certain he had a true friend in Laurens. A comfortable silence lay over the group as Hamilton and Laurens gazed at each other with matching smiles and Mulligan and Lafayette shared a brief glance, seeming to confirm without words that they both harboured the same suspicion, but also that neither would mention it.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Mulligan chided, "Laurens, you should really stop giving Hamilton a hard time."

Hamilton had quickly learned that Mulligan was an authority figure to the group, and just like a son would reply to his father, Laurens faked irritation as he whined, " _fine_." He could barely keep a straight face for even a second, however, so almost as soon as he began acting like a grumpy kid he returned to his usual optimistic self. "No hard feelings, Alex?" He opened his arms to the other man, offering a hug.

"None at all," Hamilton replied, stepping into the embrace and returning it, firmly wrapping his arms around the slender shoulders of John Laurens and feeling the other man do the same, Laurens' hair brushing the side of his face as they leaned upon one another. When they broke apart Hamilton continued, "Laurens, I like you a lot."

He caught a glimpse of a dash of rose appearing beneath the freckled skin on Laurens' cheeks, before turning to the others and explaining, "you guys are the first friends I've got."

Before the men could respond, Alexander heard the same voice calling his name for the second time that day:

"Alexander!"

The four turned to face Burr as he approached, Laurens leaning over inconspicuously to murmur for Alexander's ears only, "I like you a lot? _Tease_."

Hamilton didn't have time to reply before Burr began talking, his excitement radiating out of him as he rapidly explained, "Their father doesn't let them come to this part of town often, but they say they came because they heard people shouting in the square. They heard _you_ , Alexander!"

"Wait, who?" Hamilton asked, confused.

Burr turned around and pointed to three beautiful women. "The Schuyler Sisters."

Hamilton's jaw dropped.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Schuyler sisters

**A/N: Chapter 4 coming up - in which Laurens is an insecure, jealous little thing! He isn't at all shown like this in the show, I'm just trying to think what he'd be like in this situation. And hi Bridie, if you're reading this, yes it was you who was my inspiration for writing this! I really hope I can meet your expectations! Thanks again for your kind words :D. Now, let chapter 4 commence!**

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As soon as the three sisters entered the square, their vivid silk gowns swirling around their feet like gentle waves of the ocean lapping the shore, the energy level seemed to rise. The debates of the people who had so eagerly been discussing revolution and rebellion quickly switched to whispered compliments or murmured wonderings of why the women, who many recognized or had at least heard of, were here, surrounded by students and commoners. Well, Burr had already told them the answer to that - their interest had been piqued by Hamilton's argument with - or more accurately, complete destruction of - Samuel Seabury.

Hamilton found himself unable to look away as they glided elegantly through the square, bringing a dash of colour to the streets which had previously been littered only with different shades of brown.

" _Salut_? Hamilton?" Lafayette joked, waving his hand in front of the student's face as if he were blind.

Mulligan let out a loud laugh as he watched the awestruck young man become increasingly captivated with the girls the longer he looked at them. "Looks like our Alex likes Mr Schuyler's daughters!"

"And you'd like Mr Schuyler, too," Burr added, "if you could marry a sister, you're rich; you're the son-in-law of the New York Senator."

No one noticed Laurens' jaw clenching, or the sudden hardness to his usually carefree face as he watched his friends watch the Schuylers.

Finally Hamilton responded, with a mutter so quiet that his lips barely moved: "I'm not marrying for money, Burr..."

Burr seemed unaffected by Hamilton's response, too excited by the arrival of the girls to pay attention to the way Hamilton's voice held a scathing note at the suggestion of marrying simply for money. "Well, it would elevate your status, then," he continued, to which Hamilton didn't object.

After a pause, Hercules prompted, "You should talk to them. They clearly like what they heard."

"With your brains and looks, you might get lucky, even without any power or wealth," Lafayette encouraged.

For the first time, Laurens spoke. His voice was stormy and cold, unlike Hamilton had seen before, a side of the young man which only came out on the rare occasions when he talked about his relationship with his father. His harsh words seemed to carry some of the ice which had formed inside him and release a chill into the air of the mild fall day.

"No. The _only_ thing women want from their husbands is money."

The four other men turned to face him, shocked by the way their laid-back friend had suddenly become so cynical. Even Burr was taken aback - the only times he had spoken to Laurens had been when the teenager was teasing him, and even then it had been lighthearted and playful. Yet the shift he showed was inexplicable and unexplained to all but Laurens himself.

"Well, even if you're right, I'm pretty secure, so I'll be going," Burr mumbled, excusing himself from the conversation. Laurens was left surrounded by his closest friends, all of them too confused to say a word.

"What?" Laurens asked, glaring at his friends, feeling as if they were all judging him for feeling something he couldn't control. And they were - _all_ of the men, including Laurens, or so they thought, opposed all forms of inequality, including sexism. "I'm allowed to have an opinion. And my opinion is that women are overrated. What's so great about having someone nagging you and depending on you for cash all the time? Am I missing something?"

"You can't say that's true of all women, John. They're not all obsessed with money," Hercules gently scolded.

"You've never even spent time with girls, not since we've known you," Lafayette added.

Laurens looked down, unable to meet their gaze. "Sorry," he muttered reluctantly, more interested in making the others shut up than actually feeling apologetic. "It's just what I've heard from other people."

Even though his eyes were cast towards the floor, Hamilton noticed how they darted about, as if they couldn't bare to look at the same spot for too long. His fingertips were tapping the sides of his legs in some erratic rhythm.

 _Lying. He's lying._

The realisation suddenly flashed across Hamilton's mind. But having only know the man for a day, he had no idea what he was trying to hide, and didn't dare to hope that they had bonded enough for the other man to tell him the truth.

Lafayette and Mulligan seemed oblivious to the lie, and Mulligan wrapped one large arm around Laurens' shoulder as he laughed, "Good you're not basing it off your own experiences! You'd have a very different view if you'd seen the rewards of getting through four sets of corsets!"

" _Oui, oui_ , we all know about your many sexual exploits, Hercules," Lafayette remarked.

Hamilton laughed half heartedly, uneasy due to Laurens' strange behaviour but keen to get back into high spirits.

Misunderstanding the touch of sorrow in the sound, Mulligan turned back to Hamilton and encouraged, "If you like them, talk to them. You have nothing to lose."

Mulligan really _was_ like a father figure.

"Okay..." Hamilton replied, slightly anxious.

Sensing this, Laurens smiled at him. Although the momentary hardness had left his face, his mouth was pulled tight and the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. It was a cruel mockery of his usual loose, sunny grin or mischievous, flirtatious smirk, but at least he was trying to support his friend. "Lafayette's right, you're very attractive and intelligent, they'd have to be completely stupid not to at least consider you."

Hamilton smiled back at him, the sight of it chasing Laurens' own smile across his face, and finally the young man seemed familiar again.

"Okay," he responded, more confident now. He turned and made his way across the square to the mesmerizing women, but stopped short a few metres away as an older, stone-faced man appeared beside them. He checked each girl over in turn, then, satisfied that they were all alright, swept the three of them away, one hand on the outer elbows of the girls at the end of the line, the one in the middle secured between them. The first thing Burr had said dashed into his mind: Their father doesn't let them come to this part of town.

Disappointed, he turned away, regretting the way he had thrown away his shot to meet the sisters, but he was disturbed from his pensive reverie by the sudden appearance of, yet again, Aaron Burr at his side.

"You owe me, Hamilton."

"What for, sharing your pearls of wisdom on doing nothing?"

"I just did something nice for you, because I think you have potential and I want to help you get ahead. But I don't _have_ to tell you what I did... If I don't, you won't see the benefits," Burr teased.

Playing along, Hamilton asked with over-the-top enthusiasm edged with sarcasm, "What did you do, Aaron Burr, _sir?"_

Not picking up on it, Burr explained, "I got myself invited to the winter ball at the Schuyler mansion, and I asked if the loud-mouth rebel and his companions could come along... And they said yes."

Alexander was surprised by Burr's unexpected kindness, and mumbled a brief, "Thanks," before spinning sharply and returning to his aforementioned companions.

"They left, but we're going to their ball."

"The Schuyler's winter ball? That's publicized as one of the most impressive annual social gatherings in the city!" Mulligan enthused, with a level of excitement which seemed bizarre coming from the huge mountain of a man.

"Really?" Hamilton asked, the truth setting in as he became infected with the older man's delight.

"Absolutely," Lafayette nodded, grinning.

Even Laurens smiled, more at his friends' joy than actual interest in the ball, and joined in, "there's always loads of influential people there, or so I've heard."

"Including the Schuyler Sisters," Hamilton stated, his eyes glassing over slightly as he recalled how beautiful they were, even at a distance.

"Trust me, Alex, there's more to life than girls," Laurens replied, though this time he smirked a little, and his remark was gentle, teasing his friend rather than attacking an entire gender.

"How would you know?" Lafayette asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I wouldn't, I guess... I just know that my friends are better than any girl I could imagine," Laurens replied, throwing an affectionate arm around Mulligan and Lafayette. He and Hamilton made eye contact as he said so, and his gaze touched Alexander with a warm glow which made it feel like Laurens was holding him, too, and the other teenager knew without Laurens making physical contact that he was included in the statement.

Hamilton could tell that Laurens truly believed his friends were great, yet the slight tapping of his fingertips was a tell-tale sign of a small lie somewhere in what he had just said. Nevertheless, relieved just to have Laurens back to his usual happy self, Hamilton pushed his suspicion to the back of his ever-busy mind: something about Laurens wasn't as it seemed, but he knew he couldn't find out what - at least, not yet.

* * *

 **A/N: Oooooh, what's Laurens hiding? Who knows.**

 **(I know. Maybe you know. But I'm not telling.)**

 **Thanks for reading! xxx**


	5. Chapter 5 - Rise up

**A/N: Chapter 5! In which the lads meet Mr $1! (Do people call him that? I don't know, I'm British.) The Schuyler ball is coming up, but first my babies must get promoted. There's kinda a massive time jump, but roll with it... This thing is overrun with historical inaccuracies, so just try not to put a date on any of this and we should be okay. So! On with the show!**

 **Disclaimer: Hamilton isn't my show. I'm just obsessed.**

* * *

Two months had passed since Hamilton had stood up to Samuel Seabury, and in that time his bond with his new friends had strengthened irrevocably. His closest friend was, without a doubt, John Laurens. Additionally, his reputation had also grown: no longer just another immigrant trying to climb up the social ladder, he was idolized by his closest friends, as well as others who had been made aware of him, as the young prodigy who could achieve with his use of words what many would struggle to achieve with weapons and violence. His name was only a quiet whisper on the streets, but it was there, a constant hiss which warned royalists that something - _someone_ \- was coming, behind the scenes, doing his best to engineer a country which would drive British laws off their shores. Therefore, when George Washington visited one of the daily dawn training sessions of the militia group Hamilton was part of and heard of the bright young man, he was naturally interested in speaking to him.

Alexander had persuaded Lafayette and Laurens to join the militia, though Mulligan had explained that it would jeopardize his close relationship with the British soldiers and politicians who used his services as a tailor and revealed their secrets to him if he were to join a specifically anti-British group. And so, the two young men were there with Hamilton when Washington made his speech to them:

"I am idolized as a war hero, and yet I can't persuade my men to stand and fight with courage! The cowards flee under the cover of darkness from their duty, leaving us severely out-manned. I am in dire need of assistance, and I have come here hoping to find a solution to this problem."

Hamilton glanced at his friends on either side of him. Lafayette's brow was creased, his eyes aglow with determination to help Washington escape his predicament. Laurens looked up at Washington with so much admiration that it practically beamed out of his body like he was the sun. His eyes blazed with the fire which had been ignited by the talk of war. Hamilton had to admire the blatant emotion the other nineteen year old showed.

Washington gazed over the congregation for a moment, before retreating, leaving the hundreds of listening men whispering excitedly among themselves as he withdrew to the majestic building at the side of the training ground where the program's organiser was known to live.

Laurens and Lafayette turned to face Hamilton, who stood between the pair.

"You should approach him and offer your help," Lafayette suggested. Though he himself was also regarded as a skilled soldier, he knew Hamilton's way with words would make him a better option for the general to employ.

"My story will be told because of my performance on the battlefield, not because I sat around hiding in some office telling men braver than myself what to do," he replied, filled too much with the ambition of being a glorified fighter to even consider a different path through the war.

"Your story's already _being_ told, and it paints you as a political speaker, not a soldier," Laurens commented.

"You _know_ how many good jobs as secretaries and the like I've turned down. I just don't want to waste my chance to fight for my country," Hamilton murmured.

"You know, you don't have to prove yourself to America. No one could have tried harder to fit in here than you, there's no reason for you to risk your life, Alex." Laurens matched his soft murmur, showing a level of sensitivity that rarely came from a man in military uniform. He laid a comforting hand on Hamilton's lower back, and the other man fought to suppress a shiver at the touch of his best friend on the sensitive area.

"Let's go," Hamilton replied, his face vacant for once, perhaps thinking about what Laurens had said. Hamilton was staring straight ahead at the spot where the general had been speaking, and failed to notice the tender compassion and affection in Laurens' eyes as he looked at him. But Lafayette noticed, and took it as confirmation of the unspoken secret he and Mulligan suspected of at least one of their two young comrades. He smiled a little at the thought of it, though it was tainted by the fear that if Alexander hadn't picked up on it by now, then maybe he never would. But it wasn't his place to say anything, so he concealed his smile as the other boys started to ease their way through the crowd, nevertheless feeling like a third wheel as he walked behind the couple, who were still touching, their legs brushing against each other's and Laurens' hand still resting at the base of Hamilton's spine.

Suddenly a young man squeezed through a huddle of soldiers, breathless, and bounded towards the three men.

"Mr Hamilton?" He asked, looking only at the young collegian and ignoring his companions.

"Who's asking?" Hamilton enquired, an intrigued eyebrow tilted upwards.

"George Washington has asked to see you, sir," the man explained, "come with me."

Hamilton followed as the other man swiftly led them through the crowd to the entrance of the large building which Washington had disappeared in to, Laurens falling in behind him, the tightly packed nature of the gathered men making it impossible to move through at speed in anything other than a single file line. When they reached the door, the man stated, "He's waiting in the first room on the right. If you'll excuse me, I have to go."

Without another word he vanished into the crowd once more, and was quickly out of sight. Their trio was left alone. Hamilton felt a wave of uncertainty rising up inside him.

"Looks like if you won't go to the General, the General will bring you to him," Lafayette grinned, excited by the opportunity his friend had.

"You know you'll knock him dead," Laurens contributed, "in a good way!" He grinned his loose, encouraging smile, and suddenly Alexander felt the best part of his nerves replaced with determination.

"No need to be scared, Monsieur, the General is a fair man," Lafayette reassured him.

Laurens stepped forward to embrace him, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man and breathing "we believe in you," so close to his ear that his breath tickled his skin and made the hairs on the back of Hamilton's neck stand on end. As Laurens released him, Hamilton felt the last of his doubts leave his body. He stepped towards the impressive door filled with confidence; after all, if Laurens believed in him, surely Washington had to be impressed by him.

* * *

Washington stood behind his desk, clearly exasperated at the man who stood before him. Even from behind, Hamilton recognized the young man as Aaron Burr. They had something in common already, then. Impatient, Hamilton walked right into the room, unfazed by the possible repercussions of ruining Burr's chances to impress Washington. This was his turn to shine.

"Hamilton?" Washington asked as he entered, clearly relieved to be released from the chore that was listening to Burr drone on about his skills without ever offering his own opinion.

Hamilton nodded curtly, and Washington waved him in. "Burr, I'm afraid Hamilton and I have some business to attend to - close the door on your way out."

"Y-yes, sir," Burr stuttered, surprised and disappointed by the General's dismissive treatment, but, still as obedient as always, he complied, leaving the Washington and Hamilton alone.

"Hamilton, I expect you're wondering why I've called you here." Without waiting for a response, he continued, "you heard what I said. I need help. I need a new aide de camp, and I want you. Your reputation precedes you, and I know how many similar promotions you've been offered. Why turn them down?" Finally Washington paused long enough let the young boy answer.

"I always dreamed of glory on the battlefield, Sir," he explained.

Washington frowned thoughtfully. "I remember when I used to think putting myself in the line of fire was the best way to make a difference. But we need leaders, young man. Making decisions in a war is hard, maybe even harder than fighting - if a soldier makes a mistake, he dies. If we make a mistake, we have to live with that guilt through our lives. I need someone like you to ease that burden, and to help me control the situation so that I don't turn good men into martyrs needlessly. What do you say?"

Hamilton pondered the offer for a moment. Washington did make sense - he hadn't thought about it from that angle before. Snatches of Laurens' words floated through his mind briefly: _you don't have to prove yourself to America... there's no reason for you to risk your life, Alex._

"I'll do it. I accept your offer."

Washington beamed with pride and offered a handshake, which Alexander gladly returned.

"But, might I suggest something?" Hamilton asked, his mind suddenly remembering that without his friends' support, he wouldn't be there as George Washington's new aide de camp.

"Of course, son."

Hamilton bristled a little, but let it slide. "I think you'd benefit from knowing some of my good friends."

* * *

As luck would have it, Mulligan had come to meet the group after their training session, and when Hamilton left the building he was waiting outside with Lafayette and Laurens.

Grinning smugly, Hamilton explained, "George Washington wants to see you all." He lead them into the building too quickly for them to ask questions, eagerly showing them into Washington's office. The older man looked at the three newcomers, examining them momentarily. Seemingly pleased with what he saw, he smiled.

"Hamilton has explained to me the skills you all have. Marquis de Lafayette, I would like to appoint you as a major General."

Lafayette's eyes widened, but he nodded slowly, unwilling to show his intense delight at the new position.

"Hercules Mulligan, I understand you are close to some influential Britons who use your services as a tailor. As such, I would like for you to spy on them and report all your findings."

Mulligan smiled, enthusiastic about his new role and relieved that he could continue his family's business.

"John Laurens, I have been told you are a strong abolitionist, and have ideas about emancipating and recruiting slaves. I think it's a good idea, and it will definitely benefit America, but you'll need to do a lot of writing if you want to persuade anyone to agree with you. So you'll be working with Hamilton, who will split his time between writing essays against slavery with you and coming up with battle tactics for me."

Laurens replied "Thank you, Sir," his gaze flitting briefly to Hamilton before returning to Washington. He, too, was struggling to hide his joy.

Recognizing this, Washington announced, "I'll leave you boys to celebrate together," and exited the room.

As soon as the door was closed, the four men erupted with shouts of excitement and sheer happiness, all jumping into a large group hug as they gripped each other hard, revelling in their shared achievement.

And somehow, among it all, Laurens found a way to lean close to Hamilton's ear for the second time that day and, without Mulligan or Lafayette noticing, whispered with a hint of suggestion, "I guess we'll be spending more time _alone_ together, Alexander."

* * *

 **A/N: Oh Laurens, with all that sneaky whispering, maybe you should be the spy!**

 **So yeah, chapter 5 done. I'll try to update as soon as possible! Thanks for reading! xxx**


	6. Chapter 6 - A winter's ball

**A/N: time for the Schuyler's winter ball! Hope you enjoy this chapter... I don't really have anything else to say!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Hamilton loitered in the street a few metres away from the door to the tailor's store, waiting for the final customer to leave. He had been told he was too high profile to be seen there - it would put Mulligan's operation at risk. Finally the door opened and a tall man carrying a red jacket over one arm exited. Hamilton waited for him to disappear around the corner before entering the shop.

Inside he found Hercules rearranging a collection of supplies meticulously, carefully placing everything in its correct spot. Satisfied, he looked up at Hamilton and smiled warmly.

"Your suit is waiting in the back. This way." He lead his friend through a small door at the back of the shop into an office room which Hamilton knew also hid emergency weapons for the spy. Hanging from a hook on the far wall was Hamilton's suit - but it was almost unrecognizable:

He knew he didn't have the money to buy a new outfit for the Schuyler's ball, but he had nevertheless asked Mulligan to clean his old one in order to make a good impression. His friend had done what he'd asked and more. The dull navy was now a deep, warm blue colour, the velvet so soft that it had to have been replaced. The silk collar and cuffs had been embroidered with delicate strands of golden thread, giving the outfit a look of class which it had never had before. And somehow, his old cream trousers had been cleaned of all traces of mud and dirt. His boots were so pristinely polished that the men could see their reflections in them.

Hamilton turned to Mulligan, who was instead admiring his own handiwork, and simply said "Thank you. So much."

Mulligan finally tore his eyes away from the suit to look at Alexander, replying, "We all decided that you couldn't be allowed to go to the ball without looking your best. We all wanted you to at least have a chance with a sister..." He leaned in closer as he confided, "especially Laurens. He paid for this - I think he felt bad for holding you back that day a few months back."

Hamilton nodded slowly. "Where are the others?"

"They're going to meet us at the mansion. Now get changed, we're meant to be there in half an hour."

Hamilton and Mulligan arrived at the doors to the mansion on foot to find Lafayette already waiting, leaning against a marble pillar as he chatted amicably with the doorman. At the sound of footsteps he turned, grinning as he recognized the familiar faces approach.

"Monsieur Mulligan! Monsieur Hamilton!"

"Monsieur Lafayette," Hamilton returned, nodding a greeting. He recognized the always-neat military uniform the Frenchman wore regularly. In typical French style, it was elegant enough to look like it belonged in any upper-class social gathering.

"No Laurens?" Mulligan asked, to which Lafayette shook his head.

Just then they heard the sound of hooves, and a taxi pulled by a horse stopped a few metres away. The door opened and immediately the men recognized Laurens' silhouette.

As he drew closer, he smirked as he looked Hamilton up and down. "You're definitely good at what you do, Mulligan," he complemented, talking to the tailor in spite of the fact that he couldn't look away from his best friend.

But Hamilton, too, was transfixed in the same kind of way as he beheld Laurens. He felt his heart rate quicken as he admired the tight white trousers which clung perfectly to his muscular legs, and the linen shirt which just allowed you to make out the shadows of his toned chest. His jacket was of even finer quality than Hamilton's, slightly longer and dark enough that it matched the moonlit sky on the clear winter night. And then, the best thing Laurens was wearing was a familiar look on his face, one which immediately caused a flush of heat inside Hamilton as he was transported back to the last time he'd seen Laurens look at him like that - the first night they'd met, when they had shared a long, drunken kiss.

Both boys only had eyes for each other, and were completely oblivious to the knowing look of barely suppressed delight that Mulligan and Lafayette shared as they watched the pair.

Suddenly the older men became aware of the suspicious doorman watching them, and hurriedly stepped between their friends, ending the moment abruptly.

"Come on, guys, before they run out of booze," Mulligan joked as he and Lafayette ushered the boys in, bringing about a chuckle from the doorman which distracted him from the long look shared by the nineteen year olds.

Laurens threw one last, admiring glance at Hamilton, only to find his friend mirroring him. He smirked suggestively, and Hamilton looked away, one small part of him wishing he had the courage to return the smirk and see where it would lead.

As they entered the ballroom, the men were assaulted by a barrage of colours which danced around the room with the grace of long grass waving in the breeze. Immediately Hamilton located the three beautiful women he had admired in the square a few months ago: All three were gathered in the centre of the room, arms linked as they twirled around in some three-way dance manoeuvre. The youngest one in a lemon yellow gown seemed to add a little extra bounce to every step she took, revealing her childlike excitement. The second daughter moved with most grace, and she wore a teal blue dress which was the colour of the ocean on a calm day, the colour reflecting the placid relaxation apparent in her face. The oldest wore a coral gown, and at once gave the impression of being the most experienced dancer, a slight crease in her brow as she focused on reading her sisters and predicting how to move in order to keep their seemingly-impossible circle moving smoothly, uninterrupted by the extra hops the youngest girl added or the slow way her other sister emphasized every single step. Suddenly, the girl in the yellow dress broke away from the group and headed directly towards the group of soldiers who had just arrived.

"Margarita Schuyler," she introduced herself, bobbing a little in a half curtsy, "but everyone calls me Peggy."

"John Laurens. Care to join me for this dance?," Laurens offered, bowing deeply to her, a gesture which surprised all of his friends. Out of the four of them, they had assumed he would be least keen to dance with one of the young women at the ball.

But the way Peggy giggled and gave him her hand so innocently answered the question of why he did it: the youngest sister was barely a child. All the men shared the view that young people should be protected from the advances of their elders; Laurens offering to spend the evening with her ensured that she would be saved from the pressures which wealthy teenagers so often faced at social events like the ball.

Peggy appeared so giddy she might fall, so Laurens gently wrapped an arm around her in support as he lead her in a dance around the ballroom.

"I'm going to get a drink," Lafayette stated, and Mulligan eagerly nodded.

"I'll join you," he replied.

Hamilton started to invite himself to join them, but the pair had started walking away before he could even get a sentence out. As the distance between them and him increased, he had a sneaking suspicion that they were talking about him.

Instead of worrying about that, he turned his attention back to Laurens and Peggy. Both were smiling as they danced, and he managed to read John's lips and work out what he was saying: Laurens was asking the girl about what she was studying.

Hamilton felt his chest expand as he saw the way his best friend could be so caring and protective. His friendly expression showed how genuinely interested he was in the girl, and he realized that this was yet another new side to Laurens.

As if he could feel Alexander's stare, Laurens looked directly into his eyes and winked. Hamilton shook his head as he laughed a little, longing to be closer to his friend so that they could both share in Laurens' happiness.

A tap on his arm distracted Hamilton, and he realized the oldest sister was right in front of him. Shocked, he said the first thing which came into his head:

"You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied, Miss Schuyler."

The sister raised an eyebrow quizzically as she replied, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. And my name is Angelica, by the way."

Hamilton took a breath to compose himself, before replying, as seductively as he could manage, "I just mean you're like me... I've never been satisfied - 'til tonight."

He thought he saw a blush upon her cheeks and a spark within her eyes. He took this as an invitation to kiss her hand, allowing his lips to linger. He heard her sharp intake of breath.

She looked at the ground and swallowed, a touch of pain flitting across her face momentarily. But when she met his eyes again she had a bright smile painted on her face, and she took Hamilton by the arm and lead him away.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked, confused.

"You'll see how satisfied you can be... meet my sister!" She proudly brought him to stand in front of the girl dressed in teal. She was even more graceful up close.

"Elizabeth Schuyler," she introduced, curtsying with a shy smile, unable to quite look him in the eye.

Her anxious behaviour somehow seemed to entice him, and he took her hand and planted a kiss on it, too, bowing low enough as he did so that she was forced to make eye contact. As they did so, Hamilton gave her a flirtatious smile.

"Might I have this dance, Elizabeth?" He asked, straightening up.

She nodded, laying a hand on his shoulder as she revealed, "You can call me Eliza."

As Hamilton put one hand on her waist, he replied, "and you can call me Alexander. Or Alex. Or Hamilton."

Eliza giggled at how accommodating he was being, immediately charmed by the handsome man.

"Well then, _Alexander_ , let's dance," she replied, and Hamilton happily obliged, leading the woman, who moved perfectly with the music, through the steps. He felt his heart thump against her body, which was pressed so close to his.

It was only towards the end of the evening when he looked past Eliza to see John Laurens, still dancing with Peggy, but this time with an unmistakable look of anguish upon his face as he watched his best friend in the arms of a smitten Schuyler sister.

 **A/N: Aww, these two are a mess! First Hamilton is checking out Laurens, then Laurens starts checking out Hamilton, then Hammy is all like "I love him he's so sensitive" then Laurens is sad because Hamilton dances with Eliza and I just... wow.**


	7. Chapter 7 - The closest friend I've got

**A/N: Chapter 7! I think I should admit that this one got me pretty emotional to write! I don't want to spoil it, though. Also Laurens is very against the whole "and Peggy" thing because he's a cutie pie. So enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: You know I don't have any rights to Hamilton. I wish I did.**

Eight people emerged from the large doors of the Schuyler mansion and stepped into the wintry night. Four of them were the young revolutionary brothers, Mulligan, Lafayette, Hamilton and Laurens. The others were the women with whom they had shared the evening. Two, the beauties who had spent the night with Mulligan and Lafayette, quickly departed into waiting cabs. The other girls were residents of the Schuyler mansion.

"Thank you for a wonderful night," Hamilton murmured to Eliza, smiling sweetly at the eighteen year old.

"Don't forget to write to me, Alexander," she replied, also with a look of bliss on her face.

"As if I could," her new admirer grinned, taking her hands in his.

They stood just gazing into each other's eyes for a moment, before Eliza stepped away, calling out a melodic "goodbye!" And disappearing into her home.

Peggy still stood with Laurens, and he quickly bowed to her with a smile on his face that those who knew him well could easily identify as forced.

Nevertheless, the youngest sister giggled before backing away from her new friend, with an equally musical "Goodbye, John!" And ducking into the house after Eliza.

As soon as she left, Laurens' face feel. The man who had never been able to hide his emotions made no exception to his unintentional rule, and stared dejectedly at the ground as if it had betrayed him.

"Laurens, what's wrong?" Mulligan asked, the fog of the flirtatious evening he had enjoyed immediately pierced by the obvious sorrow of the boy.

"Nothing. Let's go."

All three men picked up on his lie, but they knew him well enough not to pry. It wasn't like Lafayette and Mulligan didn't have some idea about the source of his pain, anyway.

Hamilton reached out a hand to offer his friend, but Laurens was already walking away towards a taxi.

The remaining trio exchanged concerned looks, before all seemingly agreeing to follow him. They dashed forwards and managed to hop into the taxi just before the door slammed shut.

It was more than cosy, a carriage intended to transport a slender young woman to a ball was instead crammed full with four muscular soldiers. Just the sight of them was enough to raise a peal of laughter from Laurens. Despite his internal suffering, he recognized comedy when he saw it.

"There's the Laurens we know. I believe our work is done!" Lafayette joked.

Laurens smirked, grateful for his friends' company and compassion. He always tried to keep to himself when he was hurting, but it felt good to be around people who cared.

As for Hamilton, though he recognized Laurens' sadness, his mind was preoccupied with writing poetry in his mind about the evening he had spent with Eliza, and could barely spare a second to question what had brought about Laurens' mood. He was sure it had already started when he had seen him dancing with Peggy, but that was as far as his knowledge went.

So, how were your nights?" Laurens enquired, not aiming his question at anyone in particular.

Mulligan replied first, "Fun. I met a girl who had 4 sisters... I think we might meet up some time..." He had the beginnings of a vacant grin on his face, and immediately his listening companions thought the very same thought:

 _Five_ sets of corsets.

They all sniggered, and Mulligan's eyes widened with fake innocence as he looked between them.

"Well, I danced with a _very_ eccentric woman and spoke nothing but French to her. She found it hilarious, and of course, charming," Lafayette shared, earning nods of approval from the others.

"And I -"

"What was Peggy Schuyler like?" Mulligan asked, cutting Hamilton off.

Laurens smiled warmly as he thought of the girl. "She was very sweet and funny. Her father doesn't know, but she studies his books on military tactics whenever she can. And she seemed... like she was never appreciated in the same way as her sisters." He looked at Hamilton as he continued, "I guess you'd know how easy it can be to pay them attention and leave her alone."

"You were with her, Laurens, what did you want me to do? Ruin both of your evenings by flirting with her - flirting with a kid?"

Laurens was quiet for a second. Then he replied with unexpected kindness, "I'm not blaming you. And of course I wouldn't want anyone flirting with her - she's only a child. I'm just glad I helped her have a good time. She really _is_ a great person."

A calm silence enveloped the cramped taxi for a few minutes. Then, they passed the tailor's apartment, and Mulligan called out to the driver, before exiting the coach.

Lafayette was the next to leave, a few blocks later. He bid his friends farewell, " _Au revoir, mes amis,_ " and hopped out, leaving just Hamilton and Laurens sitting beside each other in the cab.

Hamilton shivered a little as the door closed, blowing a draft towards him. "It's cold," he remarked, smiling at Laurens. In his current state, filled with thoughts of love, his smile shone with delight and warmth even in the dark night, and Laurens felt he had to return it. He leaned in to his friend, easing his jacket off to wrap it around the other man, sharing his heat. The manoeuvre positioned him with his arm around Hamilton's waist, but the other man hardly registered their closeness - the two touched each other so often that it just felt natural. Nevertheless, even Hamilton had to notice the chest which was also pressed against him, once again the thin, light fabric of Laurens' shirt revealing the shapely body to him.

Slowly his Eliza-induced state of distraction faded away, and as it did so he became aware of Laurens' head resting on his shoulder. The young man's eyes were half closed and his lips were parted, a cloud of mist emerging from between them as Laurens exhaled. Hamilton just watched him lying there, admiring the way the handsome boy's cheekbones appeared so defined in the dim moonlight and the way his hair, despite his obvious exhaustion, remained perfectly placed. He had to fight back the urge to stroke the soft locks.

As the cab rounded a corner, Laurens sat up, disturbing Alexander's inspection of his friend.

"Here's good," he called to the driver, who promptly halted the taxi. Laurens stood and left the carriage, having to slide over Hamilton's lap in the process. He took a few steps away, but turned back to Hamilton and invited, "Come in for a drink?"

Hamilton hesitated momentarily, but accepted, dismissing his worries of having to wake up the next day in favour of supporting his friend.

He stepped out of the cab and Laurens paid the driver, before leading him towards his front door. Hamilton had never been to Laurens' house, but he immediately saw it was the largest of any of the group, having 2 floors instead of one in the case of Lafayette and Mulligan, or just a single bedroom which was shared with another student for Hamilton.

Laurens unlocked the door and reached out blindly into the dark, stumbling upon a candle. He turned around to take Hamilton by the arm and pulled him into his living room, where a few embers of a dying fire glowed. He breathed on the fire and it leaped from its grave, flickering warm tongues of light as Laurens resuscitated it. He held the candle to the flames and it, too, gained a new sliver of orange light.

Laurens faced Hamilton with a trace of sadness returning to his features. "Sit."

Hamilton did as he was asked, settling down on a small sofa as Laurens left the room.

A moment later he returned, two glasses and a bottle of what looked to be whiskey in hand.

Hamilton grinned - of course he did. He always liked a drink.

Laurens sat beside him and handed him a glass, pouring a small amount for both of them. Hamilton raised his glass and touched it to Laurens', before both brought the glasses to their mouths.

Hamilton sipped. Laurens chugged.

Alexander watched as Laurens poured himself another and downed it just as fast as the first. He had always drunk more than the others in their group, but he was usually sociable with it, taking his time to work through each drink before having another. Drinking hard and fast wasn't his style, and the change alarmed his best friend.

"Laurens, what's wrong?" The dim candlelight only increased the look of concern in Hamilton's eyes as he spoke to the other man.

"Nothing. I already said," Laurens replied, finishing his second glass as Alex took his second sip. "You never answered my question, by the way. How was the ball?"

Hamilton looked away from Laurens, gazing into the distance as he recalled, "It was brilliant. At first I thought I'd see if I could get anywhere with Angelica Schuyler... She seemed interested, but then she introduced Eliza and I. John, you've never met someone like her. Obviously she's gorgeous, but she's so kind and sweet, and incredibly shy, but the great thing about her is that you can tell the exact moment she starts to feel comfortable around you, and as soon as she does, she opens up and this whole flood of wisdom and knowledge and passion comes out. She's amazing."

Laurens stared into his empty glass. "Of course she is," he muttered, pouring himself yet another drink.

Hamilton turned back to him, abruptly disturbed from his happy memories by the bitterness in Laurens' words. "What's your problem, Laurens?" He snapped, quickly defending his new love interest.

Laurens sighed, and immediately Hamilton's frustration melted away: he had never heard such a sorrowful noise come from his usually-upbeat friend. He moved closer to Laurens and laid an arm around him in a half-embrace. Laurens couldn't meet his eyes.

"I just... I always knew you'd find a girl and fall in love. But I just thought I'd have longer with you - I'd have more of a chance to keep you to myself before someone came along who distracted you and pulled you away from our... whatever this is."

Hamilton set his glass on the floor and touched Laurens' face, tilting it to face his own. "You don't have to be afraid of losing me, Laurens."

The other man's eyes lit with a dash of hope. Hamilton continued, "I couldn't be pulled away from you - you're my best friend."

Laurens closed his eyes as though he couldn't bare to keep them open any longer. Hamilton leaned in to him and hugged him harder than ever before, the sudden move causing Laurens to drop his glass as Hamilton desperately tried to convey through actions rather than words to the man how much he cared about him.

After several heartbeats, Laurens took a deep, shaky breath and leaned back. In the glint of the glowing flames, Hamilton could make out tears in his eyes. Laurens whispered a single word: "Promise."

Hamilton took Laurens' hands and cupped them with his own, then brought his face within millimetres of Laurens' dreamy hazel eyes.

"I promise. I'll always be with you. _Always_."

Laurens smiled through the tears.

"I should go," Hamilton murmured, starting to stand.

"Stay," Laurens pleaded, gripping on Alexander's hands as they started to leave his.

Hamilton looked from the door to his crying friend. He should have known there was never any other option but to oblige. So he sat back down, removing Laurens' jacket from where it still lay around his own shoulders, and used it to cover the other man like a blanket as Laurens leaned into him. Already his eyes were drooping sleepily, and they closed as his head came to rest on Hamilton's chest.

As Hamilton's right hand softly played with Laurens' hair, Hamilton's left hand remained intertwined with both of Laurens'. The two men slowly slipped off into a dreamless sleep as Laurens listened to the soothing _thud, thud, thud_ of Alexander's heart.


	8. Chapter 8 - The envy of all

**A/N: sorry this one took a while! I have no real schedule for updating, I just do it as often as possible. Hope you enjoy this, it actually kinda surprised me how I showed this scene, but I'm happy with it! Also I included some quotes from Hamilton's letters in this chapter, have fun spotting them!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hamilton, Lin Manuel Miranda does. He's way more cool and talented than me, I just write fanfiction about a founding father who helped drive my country out of his... so yeah.**

* * *

Plenty had happened in the two weeks following the ball, and not one of those things included Alexander or Laurens mentioning the night they had shared after leaving. Instead, this time consisted of Washington moving them out of the city, housing Hamilton, his friends and other significant members of Washington's staff in a house in Pennsylvania, where the closely-knit four shared a bedroom. Another change was that Hamilton had become increasingly preoccupied, haunted by his memories of the enchanting girl in teal. Originally Hamilton had fretted that he wouldn't be able to see Eliza when he moved away, however he soon realized three fundamental truths: first, she was close enough for their letters to be delivered between each other reasonably swiftly. Second, there was an abundance of men willing to deliver letters to and from her, and third, if anything the fact that he'd be forced to use only his letters to communicate with her meant he'd win her heart even sooner due to his talent with words.

Therefore it wasn't _completely_ surprising when he called Laurens, Lafayette and Mulligan together to convene in their bedroom.

"I have some news," he explained, standing before the trio, who were all squeezed onto Laurens' bottom bunk.

"Eliza is _enciente_?" Lafayette teased, wagging his eyebrows as if accusing the young man.

Hamilton returned a sarcastic smile as the others exchanged confused glances.

"Non, mon ami, elle est engagée. _Nous_ sommes engagé," he replied, his perfect use of French decipherable even to Laurens and Mulligan.

"You're marrying her?" Mulligan checked, his disbelief at the wild young man claiming to want to settle down clearly evident in his face.

"Yes. Providing all goes to plan," Hamilton answered, nodding definitely.

"How soon?" Laurens asked, his voice seeming to lack expression.

"That depends: How soon can you have a wedding dress made for my fiancee?" He enquired, directly addressing Mulligan.

The tailor appeared to ponder this, his eyes darting from side to side as he made some quick calculations.

"Including the time it takes to source the right fabrics? Could be done within a month."

"Then a month it is!" He confirmed, turning to Laurens and smiling excitedly. His face grew sombre with earnest sincerity he continued, "It is then that I shall give up my liberty to Miss Schuyler. She is a good hearted girl who I am sure will never play the termagant; she has good sense enough to be agreeable, she has fine black eyes. And believe me, I do not speak of _all_ the perfections of my Mistress."

Laurens held his gaze for a moment, still an empty chasm devoid of feeling gaping within him, swallowing the turmoil he felt. Then with that tight, forced smile which was gradually appearing more and more frequently, he replied, "Congratulations."

Lafayette and Mulligan were quick to join in, standing to hug the young man. But only two pairs of arms held him - John Laurens looked upon the group with a sad reprise of his fake smile, before leaving the room unnoticed.

* * *

"Laurens," Hamilton called out when he finally located his best friend, his voice laced with confusion and a hint of pain.

The man was slumped against a tree perhaps a couple of hundred yards from the front of the house, facing away from the building, out of sight until you drew close. Laurens' sudden dash from the room paired with the relatively long time it had taken the others to properly congratulate him meant that he had been delayed in perusing Laurens, and close to an hour had passed since he had first left, Hamilton's search only venturing into the street once it became clear that the other teen wasn't in the vicinity of the house.

"Alexander," Laurens replied with a slight slur, tilting a bottle of wine which he held towards him in greeting.

"What's wrong, John?" Hamilton stood opposite the other man, watching him, trying to tell what he was feeling but failing. He had read such a wide array of books on a million different subjects, and yet when it came to reading people, he was as good as illiterate, especially when people seemed to be feeling something even slightly unpredictable or out of the ordinary. Both applied to Laurens.

"Nothing. Actually, something," Laurens spoke slowly as he took another sip from his bottle. He sounded like he was teetering on the border of drunkenness, the lack of food available to the army causing him to fall victim to the booze far faster than normal. "I can't come to your wedding."

Hamilton frowned, aggression creeping into his voice as he stated, "You have to come. Not being there isn't even an option."

"I can't help it!" Laurens whined. He _wasn't_ teetering on the edge, he was plummeting headfirst into heavy intoxication. "I'm going away. Washington said I should go to South Carolina and talk to some slavers about getting my battalion. So I am."

Hamilton fought to contain his frustration. He settled for a bitter mutter of, "You could delay it. You don't have to go."

"Washington said so! You wouldn't want to upset him, and he wants me to go." Laurens was laughing for no identifiable reason now, and Hamilton struggled to even recognize the man he had grown to care about.

"If I explained it to him, he'd change his mind, I know he would, he'd - "

"Not _everyone's_ world revolves around you, Alex," Laurens retorted, his drunken stupidity suddenly replaced by blazing fire in his eyes as he stepped towards Hamilton and grabbed his collar, bringing their faces just millimetres apart.

Unfazed, Hamilton stepped even closer, so that they were toe-to-toe, and almost growled, "He'd do it for me."

Laurens sighed as his eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against Alexander's, as if he could barely support his own body, as if all his energy was consumed by the even-more emotive than usual behaviour.

"I'm sorry, Alexander. I just can't be there." His eyes opened, and Hamilton was looking at bloodshot rosy spheres and deep, black pupils so dilated that the pale iris was hardly visible. Inside his eyes was a gathered puddle of tears, which promptly flooded and spilled down his cheeks as he recognized Hamilton's look of pity and concern.

Hamilton stepped away from him. Laurens crumpled into a seated position.

"Okay... Okay, what else?" As Laurens looked up and blinked in confusion, Hamilton explained, "Come on, you don't drink yourself halfway to oblivion just because you can't make it to your friend's wedding."

"I _accidentally_ drink myself halfway to oblivion because Congress won't provide enough food to stop me getting completely hammered after not even half a bottle..." Laurens grumbled, sounding a lot like some old man. "But point taken," he quickly added, seeing Hamilton become increasingly frustrated. "I guess I just... I'm losing you. After you _promised_ that wouldn't happen, I'm losing you, and that terrifies me, and I want to drown it out." He hunched over so his head was almost at the ground. He looked completely dejected, but undeniably pathetic.

"It's a good thing you can normally handle your drink, because you're horrendous when you can't," Hamilton commented, trying not to lose all his patience with Laurens. He clung to his sanity by forcing himself to think of the fun, intelligent man he usually was, instead of the slouching thing in front of him.

"You don't deny it, though, do you?" Laurens murmured.

Hamilton bent down to be level with Laurens. He made himself comfort his friend instead of criticizing him, and as such, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Laurens lifted his head slowly, his wide eyes and cautious movement providing the illusion of years being swept away from his age.

"I _did_ promise, and I meant it. You're very much mistaken if you think I could ever become less devoted to you simply because I'm getting married. You don't..." suddenly overcome with emotions, he wavered, but continued, "you don't know the value which you have taught my heart to set upon you."

Laurens closed his eyes, absorbing Hamilton's words. Suddenly something inside Hamilton seemed to shift, and a realization hit him like a lightning bolt: until the words left his mouth he himself hadn't even begun to comprehend the true depth and nature of his feelings for John Laurens.

 _Love. Pure, unadulterated love._

Hamilton could only imagine how shocked he looked to Laurens as his eyes blinked back open. He struggled to compose himself, filled with the familiarly crippling levels of uncertainty that he'd managed somehow to avoid since leaving the island of St Croix.

"What I mean to say is that you can only drive me away if you complain about my match with Miss Schuyler," he stuttered, feeling as though he had to say something to remind himself of his fiancee, and to defend their relationship. "I love Eliza."

That, too, he realized, was true.

The tables had turned, and now Laurens was the one deliriously oblivious to the reluctantly romantic feelings his friend harboured towards him. He simply nodded, still with eyes he was forcing to a huge size in his attempt to pay attention.

And yet, Hamilton knew that despite Laurens' best efforts and the promise he had made on the night they first met, he wouldn't remember any of the events which came to pass on that day. And so he sat down and moved his hand from Laurens' shoulder to his cheek. Looking into the orbs with the barely visible hazel ring around the irises he confessed, " In spite of Schuyler's black eyes, I have still a part of my heart reserved for you."

Wordlessly, Laurens leaned forward and replied by kissing the man who he loved, and who, he realized even as inebriated as he was, loved him too.

But Hamilton was right: the next day, Laurens didn't remember a thing, and he himself was too afraid of his feelings to admit it to his best friend. So the experience shared by both men was kept as a secret by just one.

* * *

 **A/N: wow. Second kiss - why must this only ever happen when they're drunk?**

 **Side note: I am very sheltered and had actually spoken to drunk people, so this is all guesswork. Also I'm just making up so many historical details here, it's literally unreal (does that count as a pun?)**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter! More coming soon!**


	9. Chapter 9 - To your union

**A/N wedding time! Hope you enjoy this!**

 **Disclaimer: I'm not Lin Manuel Miranda. Yet... **sounds of homemade body swap machine in the distance****

* * *

Neither men spoke of what had happened when Laurens had first learned of Hamilton's engagement. Laurens left the next day without saying goodbye, which made it somewhat easier for Hamilton to pretend that he wasn't just as in love with the man as he was with Eliza Schuyler. Part of him wished he had realized his feelings before he met the young girl, because maybe then he could accept what he felt without guilt or reservations, but now his heart was instead torn between them both. He was sworn to marry one of them, so it made sense, he knew, to attempt to move on from Laurens and go through with the wedding. And it wasn't just because it was his duty to do so - he adored the woman who had captivated him since the moment laid eyes upon her sea green gown and flowing brown hair. Yet still a part of him ached with longing to at least see the man with galaxies sprinkled on his skin who looked so good in the navy jacket which contrasted with his almost-golden eyes.

But of all days, this was the one where having only Eliza on his mind mattered most: his wedding day.

* * *

In Laurens' absence Lafayette was chosen as the best man. Mulligan had refused to tell Hamilton the role he'd be playing in the wedding, though Eliza claimed to know, which was reassurance enough to the young Colonel. The tailor couldn't keep still, constantly dashing between the two adjacent rooms where the bride and groom were being prepared, re-adjusting and fiddling with both of their garments, insatiable on the day where his creations would be worn proudly by one of his closest friends and his charming fiancee. By comparison, Lafayette seemed to exude an air of calmness as he sat, grinning at the palpable nerves of Hamilton and the frantic pace of Mulligan.

On the final journey from Hamilton's room to Eliza's, Mulligan stopped at the door on his way out. Hamilton was preoccupied with checking his reflection, but Lafayette noticed the surprise on the older man's face, and enquired, "Something wrong?"

"No. It's definitely right," Mulligan replied, still not turning away from where his gaze was fixed, but starting to smile happily. "Lafayette, come with me a minute."

The Frenchman and the spy left Hamilton alone in the room, though on his way out Lafayette realized what Mulligan had been shocked by, and grinned even wider. "Two minutes 'til showtime, see you on the floor," he called as they exited.

Barely a heartbeat after they had disappeared, a figure at the door replaced them, one which Hamilton instantly recognized as he looked at the reflection of the man:

"Laurens."

He turned to face him with a huge, heartfelt grin, slightly tearing up in his surprise and gratitude at his best friend's presence, and the other man smiled, the same bright, kind smile which had first enchanted his friend from the moment they met. It was not a day for being false or unhappy, but to instead do everything in his power to make it a good day for Alexander.

"Not coming wasn't even an option," he chuckled, and opened his arms to Hamilton.

Slightly unnerved by the similarity to what he had told Laurens the last time they spoke, Alexander hesitated. But after just a single, fast heartbeat, he gave in and rushed towards Laurens, burying his face in Laurens' shoulder and breathing him in, catching the scent of gunpowder and rain, pulling his slender body towards him and feeling the other man do the same.

"Why did you change your mind?" He murmured into Laurens' jacket.

"I realized I couldn't miss this. I care too much about you to not be here on your wedding day. _Plus_ ," he added, a hint of a playful suggestive smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, "I realized I'd get to see you in another fancy suit."

Hamilton chuckled, lighthearted, but he felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks and his heart began dancing giddily as it thumped within his chest. He was sure Laurens could feel it through their clothes, but he was also sure the young man wouldn't mind.

The unexpected guest didn't do anything to help calm his nerves, and instead added to them. Obviously his being there reignited the spark of love Hamilton felt for him, especially when he was in the kind of mood which had originally made him seem so appealing. And naturally it distracted Hamilton from his bride. But he was glad to have him there nonetheless.

"Hamilton, time to go. Laurens, take a seat!" Lafayette called as he returned, causing his friends to break apart.

"Good luck, Alexander," Laurens murmured, and walked away, pausing at the door to wink at Hamilton. Then he was gone.

* * *

"Elizabeth, Do you take Alexander Hamilton to be your husband?"

Glancing briefly to her sisters, then back into his eyes, Eliza spoke with conviction and joy as she replied, "I do."

"Alexander, do you take Elizabeth Schuyler to be your wife?"

Hamilton, too, spared a glance to his friends, Mulligan who was beaming with pride anticipation, his hand balled into a suspicious fist, Lafayette smiling warmly as he watched the proceedings, and Laurens, sat in the second row, his expression unreadable until he noticed Hamilton looking at him, when he flashed an encouraging grin.

Alexander forced himself to look away from the man he loved back to the woman he adored, and smiled gently as he replied, "I do."

"Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Both leaned forward and shared a slow, tender kiss. Hamilton's heart seemed to stop completely as their lips touched. When they separated, he took his wife's hand in his and lead her down the aisle. To his surprise and delight, Mulligan walked ahead of them and threw a fist full of petals into the air and letting them snow down around them majestically, generating peals of laughter from everyone in the room, none louder than a twinkling giggle from the bride, deliriously happy to be with her husband and surrounded by friends.

* * *

"You _have_ to say _something_ , you got out of being a groomsman!" Alex pleaded.

"Fine. Anything to make the great Alexander Hamilton happy," Laurens replied, faking annoyance, his charade given away by the tell-tale sparkle in his eyes.

He stood and tapped his glass, immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

"Many of you won't know me, but who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that Alexander Hamilton is my best friend, and that he's the greatest man I know, and I feel blessed just to have had the chance to meet him. I don't have any words prepared, but when it comes to Hamilton, I don't need to write something out and edit it endlessly for it to make him sound good - everything he does amazes me, including choosing to get married at all! So I'd just like to say to Elizabeth that she is the luckiest person in the world to hold his heart. Make my Hamilton happy, Eliza."

The listening crowd applauded his kind, impromptu speech warmly.

"Now, give it up for the maid of honour, Angelica Schuyler!" He finished, and sat back down. Hamilton turned to thank him, but he stopped when he saw Laurens' brilliant grin falter. The other man blinked hard and swallowed, and he was back to his usual optimistic self, smiling as he listened attentively to Angelica.

Hamilton did his best to ignore the concern building inside for his friend, attempting to surround himself fully with the festivities and block out his worries. He laced his fingers with Eliza's: it wasn't hard to forget your troubles with someone like her at your side. Laurens could wait until later.

* * *

It was the early hours of the morning when Hamilton excused himself from the ballroom where the remaining guests danced or socialized. He needed some air, a break from the stream of near-strangers congratulating or interrogating him endlessly during every single second between breathless dances with his wife or her sisters. The extensive gardens to the Schuyler mansion provided just that.

It also provided some unexpected company: Laurens was sitting on a bench under a tree, watching couples twirl around the ballroom through the distant glass window, a melancholy look in his eyes. He smiled as he saw Hamilton approach.

"Congratulations, Alexander," he greeted him.

"Thanks," Hamilton replied, sitting beside him.

The only noise was the wind rustling the leaves above them and the faint sound of music emerging from inside. They seemed to sit there for an age.

Finally Hamilton spoke, "I really am glad you came."

"Me too. Elizabeth really is lovely," he sighed resignedly.

"My Mistress - my wife -" he corrected, "is a good girl, and already loves you because I have told her you are a clever fellow and my friend."

"I noticed."

The atmosphere felt warm and heavy despite the light tone of conversation. So much was left unsaid that it was the words between the lines which added the heat to the cool spring night.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Hamilton teased, "I think she likes you enough that I'm tempted to invite you to join us for... _all_ the celebrations of tonight," he raised flirtatious eyebrows as he smirked at the nineteen year old.

Laurens laughed, a light, joyful sound which chased away much of the weight hanging in the air around them. "I'm afraid I'd have to decline - it's nothing personal, though, nothing wrong with _you_..." the emphasis on the word "you" caused Hamilton's heart to race again.

"I sure hope Eliza comes to the same conclusion!" He replied, trying to ignore the thumping in his chest. His smile faded as a flicker of regret entered his eyes. "I just wish... never mind." He finished with a sigh.

"What is it?"

Hamilton couldn't bring himself to reply. Not when just a few metres away was a room in which his new wife and her family were celebrating their union.

Suddenly aware that their moment of closeness was slipping away, and desperate to make it last just a little bit longer, Laurens offered, "I'd gladly join you in a dance, though!"

Hamilton looked up at him and smiled again, though it was tainted with longing and sorrow. Nevertheless he stood, ready to accept the proposition. Laurens rose too, pleasantly surprised that Hamilton agreed.

The two men linked one of their own hands with one of the others', and put their spare hand on the shoulder of their partner. Instead of fumbling and trying to decide who would lead, they simply stood toe-to-toe with almost their entire bodies leaning in to each other and touching. Then they moved around in a small circle to the sound of faint music, gentle breeze and both men's heavy breathing. Only the stars above watched, indifferent and accepting, vowing to keep their secret.

As the song ended, they stepped away from each other, silent as each man stared into the eyes of the other.

Eventually Laurens suggested, "You should be getting back to your wife."

"Um... yeah," Hamilton replied.

"Alexander!" Eliza's unmistakable, musical voice called out to her new husband. He turned and started back towards the house.

"Alex," Laurens called, quieter than Hamilton's wife. The man stopped. "I really do hope she makes you happy."

Hamilton smiled at Laurens over his shoulder and continued to the house, replying, "I know she will. We're _married_!"

"I guess so. Goodnight, Hamilton," Laurens responded.

He was left to watch the man he loved disappeared, returning to his adoring wife, leaving Laurens alone. Only the stars above watched.


	10. Chapter 10 - Do not throw away your shot

**A/N: Hey reader! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine! It's duel time! Hope you enjoy this, I liked writing Laurens as something other than my poor lovesick son! (Don't worry, he's still in love, but he can handle it better now.)**

 **Disclaimer: you know the drill. I don't even** ** _own_** **a drill, let alone Hamilton.**

* * *

"I'll kill that coward!" Hamilton shouted as he slammed the door on his way into his and Laurens' shared office.

"What's up?" Laurens asked, setting down his quill and walking around his desk to perch on the edge. He was immediately concerned about his friend - he'd only been back from his short honeymoon for a few days, and already he was seething with palpable fury. The time they'd shared at Hamilton's wedding, however brief, lasted in his memory, and helped Laurens to maintain his cheerful optimism. So his fond smile was, despite his internal longing for the other man, sympathetic and sunny as he focused on supporting him, and seeing it helped to soothe Hamilton's frustration.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as much as possible. Then he garbled, "Charles Lee has been ridiculing Washington - he's turning the General into a laughing stock! Well who's _he_ to pass judgements on his superiors, especially after leading a mass retreat at the battle of Monmouth against orders. I could make him regret this, and every other mistake in his life!"

"So why don't you? Obviously you're passionate about teaching him a lesson..." Laurens pointed out.

At that, Hamilton slumped defeatedly against the wall, closing his eyes and turning his face to the sky as if in silent prayer. He could only mutter his reply under his breath - if he'd allowed himself to add any more volume to his words, he would've ended up screaming them: "Washington's forbidden me. He says I've already caused too much controversy lately, I've humiliated too many powerful people, it's making people question his authority - if he can't stop his Aide de camp from running his mouth off, what hope does he have of leading an army?"

Laurens rolled his eyes, looking every bit like the sexy, testy teenager he could be as he replied, "Washington isn't meant to control your every move - he's not your dad!"

 _"I know that!"_ Hamilton practically howled, sinking down the wall to crumple into a ball of angry helplessness.

Laurens couldn't help but chuckle at the normally fearless man throwing a tantrum. He crossed the short distance between them and bent down to brush a strand of Hamilton's tangled hair, matted with the sweat which always appeared when he was truly angered, away from his forehead. The cool touch of his skin against Hamilton's hot head gave the sitting man a shock, and he let out an involuntary gasp. Laurens laughed again, and gently tilted the other man's head back a little so they could make eye contact. Both men felt a thrill of excitement at the contact, however it was heavily tainted by the blazing fury in Hamilton's dark eyes.

"You know, just because you aren't allowed to do something, doesn't mean nothing will happen," Laurens began, immediately causing a puzzled look to appear on Hamilton's face. " _I_ can make something happen. I could ask him to duel with me."

"And how would you justify it, Laurens, "I want to fight you because my friend wants to fight you because you were rude about Washington and he won't let my friend do anything about it."?" Hamilton asked, sarcasm ringing through his response.

Calm as ever, Laurens replied, "I'd just explain that I don't approve of his acts against a man I work for and admire."

Hamilton stared intently into Laurens' eyes, trying to see if he was joking. He was smiling, but there was no trace of humour within it, only kind sincerity.

Surprised, he argued, "Don't just stand there smiling about your stupid idea. There's nothing to be happy about - you're talking about risking your life for what? To make me feel big and clever?"

"Precisely."

The frustration vanished from Hamilton's eyes, replaced with confusion and longing, the latter of which he tried to hide.

"Alexander, I hate seeing you like this. I want to help you get back to your normal self, and I know you well enough that I know you can't move on from something like this until you strike back. And," he added, attempting to use Hamilton's newlywed status against him, "I'm sure Eliza would want you to be happy, just like you told me."

"Eliza's not here," Hamilton murmured, looking away almost guiltily.

Laurens drew close enough that his smirking lips were just Brushing Hamilton's ear as he whispered, "But _I_ am. And I believe your wife and I want the same thing..."

Hamilton felt the blush creeping up to his cheeks, his embarrassment about it only made it more obvious. He was sure Laurens must be able to hear the thunderous pumping of his heart. The subtext within the sentence ignited a flame of red hot desire within him, and he had to clench his fists so hard that his nails created tiny crescent moon trenches in his palms to stop himself from instead using them to grab Laurens' hair and kiss him with all of the passionate anger of the day.

Laurens always loved to flirt and tease, especially when he liked someone as much as he loved Hamilton. But the fact that the other man had such a strong reaction to him gave him a flicker of hope that maybe one day they might be more than just friends. But not yet, not when Alexander was so conflicted and emotional, and struggling so hard to resist his wants. But just because it wasn't right now, didn't mean nothing would ever happen...

Laurens stood up, and Hamilton suppressed a plaintive whine of protest. _You're married_ , he reminded himself.

"So, you're going to duel him?" Hamilton checked, only slightly breathless.

"Correction: _we're_ going to duel him. You're my second, okay?" Laurens was back to his easy, casual grin instead of his suggestive smirk.

"Okay... I guess I have to be, to make sure you don't do something stupid."

Laurens laughed. "I've done more stupid things than you could ever imagine, Alex." _Including falling for you,_ he added silently

Sombre, Hamilton replied, "as long as you don't throw away your shot."

* * *

The grey dawn morning was silent other than the sounds of footsteps pacing on hard ground. All the correct procedures had been followed; now they were standing on the precipice, it was the final threshold. All that was left to do was for the two men to trade bullets, each hoping they would meet their mark before their opponent had a chance to make some mortal scratch.

"Laurens, remember what I said," Hamilton murmured to his friend, who fiddled with the trigger of his pistol.

"Alexander, you're the closest friend I've got. Of course I'm going to remember. Now get back, I don't want you to get hurt."

Hamilton silently obliged, only too conscious of the fact that this whole thing was happening simply to stop his ego being hurt. But it wasn't worth Laurens putting himself in danger for, it wasn't worth him possibly dying for. Hamilton couldn't dismiss - or rather, wouldn't tempt fate by _attempting_ to dismiss - the knowledge that he had put the man he loved in danger to protect his pride. It wasn't like he didn't attempt to dissuade him, he'd tried, but Laurens seemed compelled by something he alone knew, something which made it seem like possibly giving your life was a worthy sacrifice for Hamilton's happiness. He knew the other man had been afraid of losing him, but since the wedding, he'd seemed much more his old self. Besides, fear is a paralytic; love is often a much stronger motivator...

"Oh!" He gasped in realisation. Finally, he recognized what had been so blindingly obvious for months: Laurens was in love with him. All the lingering touches and stares which lasted too long, the insecurity around women and the dance they'd shared at his wedding, they were all the results of romantic affection. Hamilton didn't know whether to laugh in joy that his feelings were reciprocated, or cry at his own ignorance or the sad truth that he loved and was loved by someone so great despite having the best of wives and best of women.

Or perhaps a more appropriate reaction would be to gasp again, because shots had just been fired, and one man immediately fell to the floor with a low, ominous thud...


	11. Chapter 11 - Suddenly I'm helpless

**A/N: next chapter! Completely unrelated, but I'm going to see Miss Saigon tomorrow (today? Friday) And I'm so excited! Hope you like this!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hamilton**

* * *

Two gunshots exploded into the silent dawn, a shock even to the men who were accustomed to battle: it was never personal then. Now it was a man Hamilton cared about with every inch of his body holding a smoking gun while his opponent laid on the cold ground.

Time seemed to slow down. Laurens had a look of cold detachment in his eyes - Hamilton knew him well enough to realize he couldn't truly engage with the shooting of another person, or the guilt would consume him. Charles Lee was still and silent.

Suddenly, a loud groan came from the body on the floor, and he began to push himself into a sitting position. Burr, Laurens, and Hamilton breathed a sigh of relief in unison. Both of the seconds started towards the men they were accompanying.

"Lee, do you yield?" Hamilton called, coming to stand beside Laurens. The tension in the air had the same affect as having cold water thrown over you - all thoughts of love were, for the time being, chased away.

"You shot him in the side," Burr replied, outrage in his voice as he checked the other man's wound. Lee began to protest, but Burr quickly silenced him by saying, "yes, he yields."

Laurens nodded, his face regaining some kind of emotion as he responded, "we've got to get back to base before Washington misses us."

"Too late for that!" A loud voice boomed across the vast expanse of empty land as Washington approached on horseback; their shared concerns for Charles Lee had distracted all the men sufficiently to be oblivious to the sound of hooves coming closer. He halted the animal and jumped off, immediately going to Lee. He quickly saw the wound wasn't life threatening, and immediately his look of worry was replaced with one of anger as he glared venomously at Laurens and Hamilton.

"Burr, get a medic for the General. Jesus, don't you know you're meant to have one here already?"

"Yes sir, he went for a walk so he could have deniability. I'll fetch him, sir." Burr rushed away.

Washington turned to the bleeding Lee, explaining, "I had no idea these fools were planning this. Hamilton initiated the duel, I presume?"

"It was me, sir. I was annoyed at how he disrespected you," Laurens defended his best friend, standing up even straighter as he contradicted Washington.

"Laurens... Well, I'm sure I could guess your _real_ motives," Washington murmured, his face was a storm. "Nevertheless," he continued to Lee, "I apologise profusely. Thank you for your service."

Burr and the doctor arrived, the two men supporting the fallen General as they helped him mount a horse. Burr looked to Washington for permission to leave, and at his nod Burr, too, boarded the creature and galloped away, the doctor following on his own horse.

Washington just glowered at the remaining men. Then, wordless, he climbed back onto his animal and sped away, leaving the teens to follow like naughty schoolboys.

* * *

Washington was known for his grace in the face of conflict and disagreement. He had a reputation for being calm and collected in all situations. But when he really got angry, he was ruthless.

"What were you _thinking_ , son?"

"Three things: I'm not your son, it wasn't me who did it and it wasn't my idea!"

"And you couldn't use your way with words to put an end to the duel? You thought it was a good idea to just let Laurens shoot one of our own men half to death?" The General could be so patronizing.

Hamilton rolled his eyes as he huffed, "Lee isn't one of our men. He lost the right to that title the moment he disrespected you. He's a humiliation!"

" _You're_ a humiliation! I can handle one General disrespecting me, but how does it look when I can't even stop my Aide de camp from fighting people?"

"For the hundredth time, _it wasn't me!"_

"I know, I know, it was Laurens. But you're joined at the hip, you're practically one body!"

Hamilton had to physical bite his tongue to avoid defending his and Laurens' close relationship too fiercely, because he knew if he did it would raise suspicions. And from what the old man had said about "ulterior motives", he was already suspicious as it was. He knew arguing with Washington could only make him more furious. Instead he should use the other man's current disgust at him to his advantage:

"You could send me into the field. Then you wouldn't have to worry about me."

The man closed his eyes, visibly struggling to compose himself. When they opened again, he was the picture of calmness you would expect from a man like him. But Hamilton knew that in the eye of a deadly hurricane, there is a moment of quiet.

"I can't send you into the field. You've just shown how reckless you are without even working with ammunition every day. I can't possibly send you into battle because I don't trust that you'd come back."

"Sir, please -"

" _No_ , son. You need to go home... Away from this war... And away from Laurens. Remind yourself of the fact that you have a wife who needs you."

He knew something. He had to, there was too much feeling in those words for him _not_ to know something about how Hamilton felt.

Hamilton nodded defeatedly, a twinge of guilt in his chest as he remembered Eliza's dark, enchanting eyes. And here he was, falling for his best friend. He turned and started towards the door.

"Send in Laurens. If you think I've been harsh with you, he's in line for even more of a punishment," Washington called, halting his Aide.

Frozen, Hamilton slowly replied, " _My_ punishment is being sent home. What's his, if it's worse than that?"

He turned to see Washington staring at the ground. Surely that meant only one thing.

"You can't fire him, sir."

"Hamilton, you're dismissed."

"Sir, please, I beg you to reconsider" he begged, taking a step towards Washington.

The General sighed. "Send him in, Hamilton. I'll do what I think is right."

The dismissive tone to his voice left no opportunity to argue. Hamilton retreated to the hallway, where Laurens stood, leading against a wall.

"Alexander!" He exclaimed, smiling despite the perilous situation they found themselves in, too pleased to see the other man. "How did it go?"

"I've been sent home temporarily. He wants to send you away permanently. I asked him to reconsider but..." Hamilton replied, voice cold as the words left unspoken sent a chill down Laurens' spine.

His smile vanished. "I don't understand... why?" Genuine confusion clouded his eyes.

Hamilton finally snapped. After fighting to control his temper around Washington, he couldn't hold it in any more. He rushed at Laurens and grabbed his collar, pinning him to the wall as he hissed, "Because you're reckless and stupid, and insisted on risking two lives for no good reason!"

Laurens bit his lip. If anyone else had done this, it would have scared him. But not his Hamilton. In spite of the burning fury in his eyes, all Laurens cared about was just how close their bodies were, and just how heavily he could feel Alexander's heart beating as the other man used his body to secure him in the fixed position.

"No good reason? You _know_ that's not true, Alex. You _know_ why I did it."

Hamilton looked away, suddenly aware of their proximity and his own heavy, ragged breathing.

His smirk growing, Laurens murmured, "You know the unalterable affection I have for you. It's all for you, everything."

Hamilton closed his eyes, his mind swimming with a flame of desire which spread through his body, turning into a blaze which felt like it was taking over. He forced himself to meet Laurens' lust-filled gaze, his own face displaying a mix of fear, guilt and longing.

Laurens reached for Hamilton's face, bringing it even closer to his. The other man assumed he would kiss him, and was ready to give in. But Laurens stopped just a breath away, so that their lips were almost touching, and whispered, "Look at us now. What comes next?"

Hamilton hesitated as all the possibilities flew through his mind, snapshots of a million different scenes of himself and Laurens, each lasting barely long enough for him to grasp at it before it vanished and another replaced it.

But approaching footsteps from around the corner interrupted the moment, and Hamilton immediately released Laurens. They separated just as a young man entered the hall.

"Mr Hamilton, Washington had me pack your things. They're waiting for you with a horse outside," he explained. "The General said he wanted you to leave as soon as possible." Then he dismissed himself, leaving the young men alone.

"I should..."

"You should be getting back home. And I should be pleading not to get fired," Laurens finished.

Neither men could meet each other's eyes. Finally Hamilton murmured, "I'm sorry, John."

"Don't be," Laurens replied, his easy smile a comfort to his best friend. The moment they had just shared wouldn't jeopardize the bond of friendship between them. "I get it."

And he did. But he couldn't extinguish the flame of hope inside him when he knew Hamilton felt the same as he did, married or not.

"Good luck with Washington," Hamilton said.

"I'll be fine," Laurens assured, "now get out of here."

Hamilton nodded and started to walk away. But before he reached the end of the hall he rushed back to Laurens and embraced him tightly, trying to form a clear image of the man he loved, what he smelled like, what he felt like, how he sounded when he was silent. After all, who knew when they would meet again?

"I'll see you soon," he promised.

"I know."


	12. Chapter 12 - Don't forget to write

**A/N Miss Saigon was amazing, even though it meant I had no time to write and update on Friday, but hey, I never promised to do this daily. This chapter used some extracts from the real letters written by the lads, and also I BRING MULLIGAN AND LAFAYETTE BACK! (Only a little bit, but at least they're there!)**

 **Disclaimer: By this point you can probably tell I'm not anywhere near talented enough to create something like Hamilton. I just write naf fanfiction about it!**

* * *

The journey home had taken a week, with a horse more weakened by military service than it's owner carrying him and his luggage, but throughout that time Hamilton's main concerns had been about Laurens' confession and about the pure desire he had felt in that moment when they'd been so close. The idea that something might be happening back at the Schuyler mansion had never even crossed his mind.

But now he was there, with Eliza stood in front of him telling him she had begged Washington to send him back to safety because she was pregnant. Or, as Lafayette had teased just a few months ago, _enciente_. Her face was a picture of fear and hope combined to form the image of loving innocence which characterized the young girl perfectly.

Alexander couldn't look at that face, so adoring, when he had so much to be guilty for: he was irresponsible enough that he'd been sent away from his post. He was poor enough that they couldn't support the lifestyle Eliza was used to _and_ raise a child without relying on her father, something he was too proud to even consider. And of course, not that it changed how he felt for his wife, but he was tumbling into the abyss of falling in love with someone else at the same time.

Eliza recognized his guilt and took his hands in hers. "I don't care how little money we have. What I care about is you - I relish being your wife." She murmured softly, her sweet smile coming as a comfort to the conflicted man.

He finally made eye contact as he asked "I shouldn't be home for long. When I go back, I'll be in danger again. What if you have to raise a child without a father?"

Her dark eyes blazed with a fire he'd never seen there before, an anger caused by the unspoken suggestion that he would be killed and the hormones which worked to create the new life inside her. "You deserve a chance to meet your child," she replied forcefully, squeezing on his hands aggressively.

"So what do you suggest?" Hamilton enquired, surprised at her outburst.

"Let this moment be the first chapter where you decide to stay here with us." She replied, her previous anger replaced only with sincerity.

"Stay here? But what if they need me?" He asked, still confused: Eliza had always understood he wanted to achieve military greatness. But in her emotionally and physically fragile condition, he couldn't blame her for the change of heart.

His last piece of reluctance was shattered when she released his hands and turned away, whispering, " _I_ need you." Her clipped voice and delicate sniff revealed her sorrow without letting her husband see her now-tearstained face.

"Okay," he replied, approaching her and wrapping his arms around her from behind, resting his face on her shoulder. His heart swelled with love as she sighed with relief and leaned her face against his cheek.

"Thank you, Alexander."

His promise seemed to add a weight to his shoulders. He had to write something down, to distract himself from the turmoil of what was going through his mind, and there was only one person who he wanted to speak to in that moment.

* * *

 _My dear Laurens,_

 _I write to you from the safety of my home, which I arrived at this morning. My wife and her family are all in good health. I regret the tension which arose between us when we parted, it was never my intention to lash out at you. If you truly meant what you said to me that day, then I hope you can forgive me. Adieu,_

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton._

Laurens received the letter almost a week after it was sent, and immediately noticed how clipped the tone of it was. He could picture Alexander speaking the words written on the page, and he was looking at the ground, avoiding eye contact, his voice tight and low with stress and anxiety. He was hiding something.

"C'est from Monsieur Hamilton, oui?" Lafayette asked, his words an almost indecipherable mixture of French and English. He was lounging on his bed, the bottom bunk opposite the bed where Laurens sat reading the letter with a crease in his brow.

Smiling at his observant friend, he asked, "How can you tell?"

"Maybe because you only ever frown like that if he's involved," Mulligan remarked from above the Frenchman. He was there on one of his fortnightly visits to Washington to share information. "Or maybe it's because the French can tell when love is in the air?"

The smile fell from Laurens' face. "Love? I'm not... there's nothing... I don't -"

"Aww, he's blushing," Mulligan teased, which only turned Laurens' cheeks from light pink to a brighter red. "You don't have to lie to us, John."

The youngest man stayed silent, so Lafayette continued, "We're your friends. What do we care if you like Alexander?"

Finally he replied, "It's not as if liking men is something society condones. And anyway, he's married."

"Does society condone revolting against your country's ruler?" Mulligan pointed out.

"And just because he's _amoureux_ , doesn't mean _you_ can't still care about him."

"We just don't want you to get hurt," Mulligan reassured.

Laurens started to grin again, the revelation of one of his secrets making him feel instantly lighter. His friends accepted him, that was enough. He stood and gave a quick hug first to Lafayette, then clambering up the ladder and doing the same to Mulligan. He had no words, but he didn't need them. The trio were so attuned to each other that they already knew Laurens' gratitude.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Write back to him!" Mulligan prompted.

* * *

 _My dear Hamilton,_

 _I noticed a degree of reticence within your last letter, and it surprised me - I would have thought that considering how close we've gotten, you could be open with me. Nevertheless I can forgive you, as we tend to forgive the ones we care for as deeply as I care for you. You are greatly missed here, I hope Washington allows you to return soon. Speaking of the old man, he allowed me to stay - didn't I tell you it would be fine? It will be even better when you return to my side, as then I will be able to focus on where I am, instead of my thoughts carrying me away to be with you. Adieu, my dear._

 _Yours ever,_

 _John Laurens._

It had been two weeks since he returned to Eliza, and every day he grew more and more restless, for a multitude of reasons he couldn't pinpoint. The arrival of Laurens' letter was a welcome distraction from the complete lack of work compared with what he had grown used to when on Washington's staff. It was teasingly affectionate, perhaps even romantic, which was hardly surprising considering the words which had been uttered in the hallway when the other man's body had been pressed to his. His eyes and fingers ran across the page repeatedly as he read and reread it, and he felt guilty for not disclosing the information he had learned just before writing which had lead to his hesitant wording: Eliza's pregnancy and the fact that he was going to be a father wasn't exactly something to share with a person you cared about. But perhaps honesty was the best way to deal with it? Despite his promise to stay with his wife, he grew increasingly anxious to see Laurens again - the letter was a stark reminder of the situation he'd left behind. If they had not been disturbed the last time they met, what would've happened? Hamilton couldn't resist hoping that when he returned, he might find out.

He wrote his reply so quickly that it was completed within ten minutes of receiving the letter which it responded to.

* * *

 _My dear Laurens,_

 _I apologise that my last letter was unsatisfactory to you, but as always you are right - upon writing it I had just learned that I am soon to be a father. It would have felt wrong to share this when I had barely comprehended the news myself. As for your missing me, the feeling is mutual. I restlessly await the day we are reunited, however I fear my wife requires me to comfort and support her during a time of intense physical and emotional strain, and I feel morally compelled to oblige. Nevertheless I feel I will be excused if my duties to you (all) and the war effort call me back. In my absence take as much care of yourself as you ought for the public sake and for the sake of_

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton_

"What did he say?" Mulligan asked.

"Eliza's pregnant," Laurens replied, a hint of sadness tainting his delight at receiving another letter.

"Et? Quoi-d'autre?"

"Only that he misses me too, but he might not be back for a while."

"He missed you "too"? You said you missed him first?" Mulligan enquired, shock in his eyes.

"Um... yes?" Laurens hesitantly responded, a grin on his face at his friend's humorous facial expression, so genuinely affected by the news. It looked bizarre on a man who resembled a mountain, you'd expect him to be far more... stony.

"Ah, _mon Dieu_ , you are hopelessly in love, _mon amis_ ," Lafayette stated, looking to the sky in mock prayer.

"Well what should I do?"

"Write back!"

* * *

 _My dear Hamilton,_

 _It seems congratulations are in order, from myself and the others. Speaking of whom, I'm sure they will relate to you how many violent struggles I have had between duty and inclination - how much my heart was with you, while I appeared to be most actively employed here. Even so, I understand your predicament. I only wish Washington would see sense and call you back here to complete your duty. It seems your absence is as much of a hindrance to our efforts as it is to my personal enjoyment of the world. I will release you now back to paying attention to your lovely bride and child. Adieu to the three of you._

 _Yours ever,_

 _John Laurens._

The Hamiltons were in their bedroom, Alexander reading at his desk while Eliza laid in bed.

"They _need_ me, Eliza."

"Unless Washington himself says so, I will consider it the worst possible betrayal."

"My absence is "a hindrance to our efforts"!" No need to mention what else Laurens had added.

"You're so desperate to abandon your own child and I at the drop of a hat. Don't we mean anything to you, Alexander?"

He turned around and leaned over to kiss her forehead, murmuring onto her skin, "of course you do. I love you both."

She smiled, satisfied, and reached for his hand, placing it on her belly, which was an inch or so rounder than it had been before. They both looked from her stomach to each other as they felt her heartbeat and another small, faint pulse. Hamilton remembered why he was there - to be with his wife and child, to make sure both were happy and safe. The joy in his heart as he looked between the woman with mesmerizing black eyes and the raised bump where their little one lived confirmed that it was worth it.

* * *

 _My dear Laurens,_

 _As much as I long to be with you, I am overwhelmed and overjoyed to witness the miracle of life. My Eliza is radiant, and our child grows visibly larger inside her every day. She's only three months into her pregnancy but already we are filled with excitement and anticipation for the day he arrives (we both instinctively feel it will, in fact, be a boy.). Even so, I know I can be just as useful to my son if I help to lay the foundation for his country as if I stay by his mother's side. Therefore let it be known that I will gladly return if requested to do so._

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton._

Laurens sighed. He was alone in the room intended for four men to use, and the lack of company made it feel like even longer since Alexander had left. Already over a month had passed, and each day he ached with longing to be reunited with the man he loved. When - if - he ever came back, Laurens resolved to be even more forward: this time of separation served no purpose if not to show him how lonely a life without Hamilton in it would be, and he wanted to take every chance, even if it was a risk, to bring them closer together.

The door burst open, and Lafayette strolled in, beaming smugly. He sat opposite Laurens wordlessly and raised his eyebrows.

"Come on then, what are you so pleased about?" Laurens asked, playing along.

"I spoke to Washington. Your little lover-boy is coming back!"

* * *

 **A/N yay! Hammy's going back! And Laurens' new boldness (jk he's already super flirty amirite?) will have some implications! Also I hope you like how chill the lads are with Laurens' sexuality. There's really no other way for them to be I think.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter! New one should be here soon!**


	13. Chapter 13 - By your side

**A/N: I was very excited for this chapter! I told you Laurens' new attitude would have an impact... And don't worry, I'm pretty sure this all fits within the T rating. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hamilton... but imagine if I did!**

* * *

Returning to the house occupied by Washington's staff felt as much like coming home as going back to the Schuyler mansion had felt a few months before. The General waited outside for him, taking a break from his extensive work to greet his most trusted Aide, at the head of a small group of men he recognized. Unfortunately, Lafayette and Mulligan were absent: the tailor, as per usual, was away on a reconnaissance mission, while the Frenchman was down south, leading some kind of military action at Chesapeake bay. But the face Hamilton longed to see in this otherwise grim place was the one which could light up a room with a sunny grin or set his heart on fire with a smirk. And there it was, there _he_ was - John Laurens.

Hamilton dismounted and approached the group, heading to Washington first out of courtesy.

"Welcome back, son."

"Sir," Hamilton nodded politely, clenching his fists a little at Washington's fatherly way of treating him.

His irritation was short lived, however, as next he turned to Laurens, who was smiling so brilliantly that it chased away any negative feelings. He felt his own mouth curving upwards, and hugged his best friend warmly, ignoring the slightly damp hair and jacket as he relished being back at his side.

"Hey Alex," Laurens greeted, his words muffled slightly by the other man's shoulder. Even so, you could still tell how pleased he was to have him back.

"Heart-warming as this is, we all have work to do boys, especially you, Hamilton. Please return to your work stations." Washington commanded.

The small gathering dissipated with mumbles of "yes sir", including the two young men who were so glad to be back together. They walked side by side to their shared office, knowing that any work would feel easy when they had each other's company.

* * *

The day passed in a blur, the overwhelming volume of letters to draft, plans to approve, tactical advice to give and reports to write greeted Alexander as an old, familiar companion, absorbing him. He still managed to make conversation with Laurens, however, who had equally demanding tasks to complete. Somehow, he was the exception to his normal rule: Hamilton usually hated any distraction from his work, but talking to Laurens only helped him perform better. Maybe it was because they were so similar, but he suspected it was just that he wanted to prove himself to the other clearly intelligent man.

But talking wasn't the only distraction Laurens offered; just being there was enough to pull Hamilton's attention away from writing every so often in order to admire the other man: his hair was slicked back into a ponytail, but as the night wore on single curls escaped to frame his face. The face itself was flattered by the flickering candlelight, as it had been on the night of the winter's ball. His eyes were focused and bright, a doorway to the wise and kind soul of the man. His lips rested in a slight pout of concentration. And the freckles Hamilton adored were scattered across his skin in unpredictable patterns reminiscent of the stars in the night sky. He was truly beautiful.

It was almost midnight, the hour when both men always stopped - or at least, _Laurens_ always stopped, then spent another 15 minutes convincing Hamilton to call it a day.

As always, Hamilton's hands continued to fly across the page effortlessly, but Laurens' own hand was slowing to a halt. Before setting his quill down, however, he leaned over the desk towards the man sitting opposite and disturbed Hamilton's gliding wrist with a gentle bump from his own. It was enough to pause the man for a moment and make him look up from his page.

In Laurens' eyes was something Hamilton hadn't seen before, a new edge of determination. Somehow his easy, friendly expression wasn't compromised by the way he had clearly set his mind to something. Holding Hamilton's gaze, his lips curled up into a smirk as he dipped his quill into Hamilton's pot of ink, and slowly withdrew, scrawling a final, laborious sentence.

Hamilton felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks at the suggestive action, but laughed it off - even if Laurens cared about him, _surely_ he wouldn't be quite as bold as to mean anything by it.

"Trying to tell me something, Laurens?" Hamilton joked, certain the other man would burst into laughter, or at least grin in his amused way, instead of just sitting there smirking.

But Laurens maintained his stance, the only change was the way he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Hamilton's throat turned dry. "Laur - John - I -"

Laurens giggled, delighted that for once the man who could always conjure just the right words was rendered speechless and stuttering by something so simple.

 _He shouldn't be able to do that, changing from being so handsome to so adorable within a heartbeat_ , Hamilton thought, half way between jealousy and desire.

Laurens calmed down, serious again as he stood up and stated in a casual, offhand way, "You know what I want. If you want me, too," he paused to reach over and take one of Hamilton's hands, bending to plant a lingering kiss on it and looking up into the other man's dilated eyes, "come find me."

He dropped Hamilton's hand and turned on his heels, striding quickly to the door as if nothing had happened. But the relentless pounding of his heart and the tingling sensation on Alexander's hand where lips had met skin was evidence enough.

Laurens hadn't exactly been explicit in his offer but it was clear what he meant by it. And Hamilton was tempted: his wife was miles away and pregnant, meaning they probably wouldn't be intimate for a long time. Meanwhile he was here, spending long days and nights in the company of the most amazing man he'd ever met with the kind of face which made even happily married men lust after him. And there was the small factor that he loved Laurens and he finally had a chance to live out his fantasies with his best friend.

He made his choice and walked towards the door, not even finishing writing his sentence.

* * *

Hamilton loitered outside their bedroom door. It was just the two of them sharing for now, with the others away. Even so he felt a sense of apprehension - from the moment they met, Laurens had been a flirt. What if all this was nothing but an act? He had already noticed several months ago that Laurens was hiding something, but that didn't seem to be related to this.

"You've taken bigger risks than this," he muttered to himself, and shoved down his reservations as he stepped into the room.

Laurens was standing at the opposite end, just a few metres away, leaning with the back of his head against the wall, watching the door eagerly. His face was anxious, but when Hamilton entered it immediately lit up, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as the other man's intentions were revealed through his nervous but hopeful eyes.

"I knew you'd come," Laurens stated, straightening up as he took a step away from the wall.

Hamilton had to smile. "I think you might know me better than I know myself."

Taking the smile as an invitation, Laurens closed the short distance between them as he swiftly advanced towards the other man. When he stood toe-to-toe with him, he brought his face closer to Hamilton's, eyes open to watch for any trace of discomfort, slowly enough that the other man could pull away if he wanted to. Instead Hamilton just closed his eyes and parted his lips as the other man's mouth touched his own.

Laurens was soft but firm, starting out gradually but increasing in pressure and pace as Hamilton's lips eagerly responded, moving in perfect rhythm with his own as they quickly deepened the kiss.

For a minute or so their lips were the only point of contact, but Hamilton soon remedied that, reaching a hand up to rest in Laurens' hair, not a restrictive action but one which encouraged his lover to continue.

Laurens took the next step, placing one hand against Hamilton's chest and pushing him against the door while the other hand twisted the key already in the lock, ensuring they would be undisturbed as the night progressed. Confident in their privacy, Laurens moved his lips away from Hamilton's, to a small whine of complaint, and kissed a long line across his cheek and along his jawline. He paused to unbutton the top of Hamilton's shirt and pull it open, revealing more of his neck and chest. As he continued his journey further down, where he knew any marks he left could be hidden, the kisses became longer, and he started to suck and nibble at the sensitive skin as he worked his way further down towards his collarbone, the rosy beginnings of love bites immediately blooming into flower. Hamilton groaned, his hand still tangled in Laurens' hair, gripping tighter in reaction to the slight prickle of pain as Laurens nipped at his flesh. As Laurens continued to bite and suck, Hamilton started to take the other man's navy jacket off, pushing it down from his shoulders, and Laurens adjusted his arms so that it fell to the floor. Hamilton continued with his shirt, his racing heart and sweaty palms making him clumsy as he fumbled with the buttons, working his way down until finally the whole shirt was open, revealing the soldier's toned, muscular chest and torso. Laurens stepped back in order to shrug off the garment, allowing it to fall beside his jacket. As soon as it was off, Hamilton stepped towards him, wanting to resume their kissing, but instead Laurens continued moving away from Hamilton and towards his bed and sitting on the edge of it. The other man followed eagerly and sat on Laurens' lap, facing the young man.

"You're moving quickly, Laurens," Hamilton breathlessly commented.

"Problem?" Laurens teased, leaning back slightly and pulling Hamilton back towards him, kissing him passionately as he smiled against his lover's mouth.

"Never," Hamilton assured, murmuring his reply into the kiss.

Laurens resumed undoing Hamilton's shirt buttons, working faster than the other man had on his own, and pushed the shirt and jacket off of his body together. Hamilton shivered at the sudden rush of air against his skin, but then Laurens' arms were around him, pulling him even closer, and as their bare chests collided the slight chill was replaced by the heat from the other man's body and the fire which burned through his core.

Their kisses became more sensual, their movements passionate and meaningful as they kept going, taking turns to remove each other's clothes, losing themselves to their desires, months worth of pent-up lust finally set free as they both enjoyed the sensations of feeling the other body moving against their own, pulses reaching a new high as they grew more and more confident in each other, finally experiencing the dreams both had held on to for such a long time, letting go of all reservations, forgetting how to even think as the scorching heat grew...

* * *

The two men shared a look of comfortable relaxation. Gold eyes met brown, full of affection, and both had to smile, slightly sleepily after a very long day and an equally busy night. Laurens laid his head on Hamilton's chest, interlocking their fingers and kissing their joined hands. Alexander pressed a soft kiss to his head. Then both men slipped away into a satisfied sleep, Laurens listening to Hamilton's steadied heartbeat and Hamilton calming himself down as he played with Laurens' loose curls.

* * *

 **A/N well wasn't that interesting? At last! (Hope this wasn't too mature, I read through the guidelines very carefully and I'm sure this complies with them)**


	14. Chapter 14 - Thinking past tomorrow

**A/N: Chapter 14! I'm glad we've gotten this far! I didn't originally intended to include this chapter, but it took 13 chapters for them to get together and I think they deserve some cuteness before something a guest mentioned complicates things... (dear guest, I was aware of that information, and it's going to come into play very soon...) For now, though, chapter 14!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hamilton. I've never seen Hamilton. And watching the Hamilton bootleg is _really bad_ so please no-one do that.**

* * *

Hamilton awoke wearing nothing but a smile, a blanket draped carelessly over his body, which was intertwined with that of John Laurens. He was still leaning fast asleep on Alexander's chest, his hair loose from the pony tail and an arm slung over the other man's body. Hamilton's eyes fluttered closed again. He felt warm and safe, the guilt he had dreaded hadn't yet set in, and for the first time he felt no urgency to get up. There was no rush to return to wakefulness and spend tedious hours running errands when he could just lay there in the embrace of the man he loved, who was dozing peacefully.

Or so he thought, until an involuntary yawn seized him, causing him to inhale so deeply that his chest rose enough to disturb the sleeping Laurens.

The other man looked up and immediately beamed when he saw Alexander laying there. "Good morning," he murmured, stretching his neck to kiss Hamilton's cheek.

"Hey, sleeping beauty" Hamilton smiled back as he teasingly replied.

They laid there in comfortable silence, neither knowing quite what to say. Well, there were no words for what they'd shared the night before, perfect didn't seem to capture the sheer brilliance of it.

After a while, Hamilton confessed, "I wish we could just stay here all day."

"That doesn't sound like the workaholic I know - what have you done with my Alex?" Laurens joked.

" _Your_ Alex?" Hamilton enquired.

Laurens looked up at him and smirked, tracing his index finger along the trail of maroon blossoms scattered along Hamilton's neck and chest, following the line further down below the blanket. "I don't see anyone else's marks on you," he explained, making the other man blush.

"Point taken," he replied, his voice a little husky due to the position of Laurens' hand, which currently rested on his thigh.

Laurens giggled playfully, removing his hand and instead using it to pull Hamilton's face in for a kiss. The other man happily obliged, and had to fight an internal battle to stop himself complaining when Laurens pulled away and went back to leaning on his chest, a small, contented smile on his lips.

"What are you thinking about?" Hamilton asked.

"Just that I'm glad you didn't freak out," Laurens admitted, moving his head to rest in the nook of Hamilton's neck.

"Me too."

Silence again, though this time it was because Hamilton wanted to ask something but wasn't sure how. His lover was always good at reading him, however, and with the extra benefit of having his ear pressed beside Hamilton's skin so that he could make out the heightened pulse, he was easily aware of Alexander's uncertainty.

"What's wrong?" He asked, taking one of Hamilton's hands and cupping it between his, running soothing thumbs across it.

"I just..." He sighed as he wondered, "I'm just not completely sure what made you... you know," he finished clumsily, tripping over the words, feeling stupid for questioning the stunning experience.

But Laurens would never treat him like he was stupid: "I just realized what it would be like to lose you when you were away, and when you came back I wanted to do everything I could to keep you close," he explained with sincerity. His serious mask cracked as he chuckled, looking between their bodies and Hamilton's face as he pointed out, "it worked!"

 _That would explain the determination in his eyes last night,_ Hamilton realized.

"So was it what you expected?" Hamilton asked, slightly insecure: his previous partners, though female, had always been satisfied, but Laurens was the first man he'd ever been intimate with, and he was unsure of his abilities with another man.

But the grin on Laurens' face allayed his fears as he replied, "better."

Then came the final question, and possibly the most important of all: "So, do you think we'll be doing that again?" Hamilton asked, already sure of the answer.

Laurens' response, however, took him by surprise; the young man shifted to lay on top of Hamilton, straddling his waist and leaning in to kiss him deeply, before whispering, "How about right now?"

Hamilton didn't have a chance to reply before Laurens' lips were back on his, and he willingly surrendered himself once again to the passions of the previous night...

* * *

If Hamilton had been distracted by Laurens before, he now found it near impossible to focus. They had risen from the bed later than usual, much to Washington's disapproval, ("Well, maybe if I start laying in, he'll stop calling me son," Hamilton had muttered to Laurens,) and he was greeted by a mountain of work. Even so, he could barely look at the inkwell without being pulled into memories of the night before. He constantly had to restrain his hand, because it was trying to write out the words which whirled through his mind; words of love and lust which made it enormously difficult to concentrate.

Every so often, Laurens glance up and smirked playfully at Hamilton, making his lover's heart race a little as he tempted him with the suggestion of something they both wanted but also knew he couldn't carry out until later.

"Tease," Hamilton muttered under his breath, peering up over his glasses.

Laurens bit his lip to hide his grin, delighted at the effect he had on the man who had seemed so unattainable for such a long time. He opened his eyes wide, feigning innocence as he smiled sweetly and answered, "I don't know what you mean."

Hamilton leaned his chin on his hand and leaned forward a little as he seductively replied, "From what I saw this morning, you definitely _do_ know what teasing is, and you love it."

Laurens blushed, attempting to laugh it off but failing miserably as his face took on a rosy hue. Hamilton chuckled at the young man, internally thanking the God he wasn't sure existed for letting such a person be part of his life.

"Could you lean in a little closer?" Laurens asked. Hamilton did as asked and closed his eyes, letting Laurens mirror him to peck his lips affectionately. Even after all they'd shared within the last 24 hours, that small, brief touch seemed to fill his entire body with warmth. Hamilton leaned back and continued writing, finding it slightly easier now that he was brimming with Laurens' energy. Laurens stayed leaning forwards for just a few heartbeats longer, admiring the sight of Alexander working hard. Part of what made him so desirable was the fact that they seemed to connect on a spiritual level, both as dedicated to the cause as each other. He sighed happily, watching him scrawl away on the paper, his words quickly spilling from the quill to fill the sheet. He leaned away, closing his eyes to preserve the image. Then he, too, got back to work.

* * *

The door swung open suddenly, crashing carelessly into the wall as the broad-shouldered man entered the room. Laurens and Hamilton looked up to see Hercules Mulligan.

"Hey, you're back!" He greeted Hamilton, immediately going over to hug him.

"Yep! I forgot you were due a visit," Hamilton replied warmly, his words slightly breathless from Mulligan's tight bear hug.

"I'm hurt!" Mulligan joked, putting a hand to his heart in mock outrage, bringing about a laugh from his audience of two.

"You're never hurt, if anyone knocks you down you just jump right back up again," Laurens replied. Hamilton smiled at Laurens' astute rephrasing of a statement Mulligan so often made about himself.

The tailor noticed - of course he did, he was like a guardian to them both.

"What's this little smile?" He asked, pinching one of Hamilton's cheeks gently between his fingers.

"Nothing," Hamilton replied, struggling out of Mulligan's grasp like a toddler trying to escape it's mother's questioning.

Laurens couldn't meet Mulligan's eyes, which told the spy as much, if not more, of a story than Laurens' always-revealing facial expression would have.

He gasped as he deduced, "You two have been up to something!"

Hamilton stuttered, while Laurens stayed completely silent.

Mulligan grinned wider than ever as he responded, "Wait til I tell Lafayette!"

"Please don't - nothing's going on," Hamilton stated, finally able to formulate a sentence.

"'Course there's not," Mulligan replied slowly, nodding while raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

"Hercules..." Laurens complained, his tone scathing at the juvenile behaviour of his eldest friend.

"I'll leave you to get on with... stuff," Mulligan answered, not even trying to hide his smug grin as he turned and left the room. As he reached the door, he turned and hissed, "I get that this is all a secret, but I'm really happy for you both!"

He left the lovers shaking their heads and wearing reluctant smiles.

"That went well enough," Laurens shrugged after a moment.

"I guess," Hamilton replied. "And hey, I'm really happy for us too," he continued, looking away from Laurens, slightly shy when it came to sharing how he felt.

Laurens knew what to do to put him at ease, though. He approached Hamilton, pressing their bodies close together and wrapping his arms around his neck, placing his forehead on Alex's and murmuring suggestively, "Me too."

Hamilton grinned, and closed the gap between their lips as he and Laurens shared a deep, passionate kiss. This time he felt more than just warmth: it was fire.


	15. Chapter 15 - Trouble in the air

**A/N: you're gonna hate me... mwahahahah! This kinda hurt to write, but please remember this isn't the end! And guest... Hey. Hope this is a way of incorporating you-know-what that's acceptable to you!**

* * *

No wise man would've placed money or faith in John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton's relationship being everlasting and effortless. So many odds were stacked against them: the tumultuous events of war could tear them apart and kill either one of them without warning; the doting husband might end what they shared out of newfound loyalty to his beloved Eliza; they could be discovered at any moment if they neglected to lock the bedroom door or risked a kiss and often more in a secluded corridor or even their office.

And yet, in spite of all this, the Gods of fate somehow arranged a pathway around these obstacles, allowing the illicit affair to continue for months without hitch. During the days they shared every possible moment, exchanging mischievous glances and stealing private, passionate sessions. During the nights they were far warmer than any other man involved in the revolution, desperately devouring the body which pressed against them with heat and desire as they made love, before falling asleep with their limbs tangled together in an indecipherable knot. Only Lafayette and Mulligan knew of it, and they kept it as closely guarded as if it was a secret in which they were personally involved, happy for their formerly lonely comrades to have discovered just how friendly each other's company could be.

But this bliss couldn't last. A revolution is a time of huge change and unpredictability, and the young rebels could not be exempt from it.

* * *

Three months after the whole affair began, Hamilton waited alone in the bedroom. He knew Laurens would come by soon after he finished a meeting with Washington, and he was impatient to feel the other man's skin beneath his fingers, his hair tangled around his fist, his teeth biting his bottom lip...

A knock came upon the door. Laurens wouldn't knock, it was his room.

Reluctantly Hamilton stood and went to answer the door, silently praying it wouldn't be someone who would keep him talking for a long while, wasting the precious time he'd set aside with the intention of dedicating it to his lover.

On the other side a skittish young boy stood, holding an envelope. "Letter for Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, sir" he stated.

"I can pass it on to him," Hamilton replied, snatching it from the hands of the boy in his eagerness to dismiss the lad. The boy, who might have only been in his early teens, looked stung by the sharp gesture, and Hamilton, feeling guilty, forcibly removed his frown and dipped his head as he added, "Thank you, I appreciate your efforts."

The young boy smiled with relief, also bowing, and scampering away with a "Thank you, sir!"

Hamilton's private smile was unforced, a touch of paternal instinct making him mellow at the sight of the enthusiastic boy. He closed the door and turned his attention to the letter.

He would recognize the handwriting of Mulligan or Lafayette, not that they wrote to Laurens often anyway. And he'd watched Laurens tense up when a letter from his father arrived, so he'd learned to recognize his handwriting too. Laurens never received letters from his siblings, instead his father kept him updated within his own correspondence with his son, so that ruled them out. There was no one else he knew of who would send Laurens a letter - not that Laurens was unpopular, but surely the only friends close enough to consider writing to him would be aware that he was too busy to reply unless to those in his very closest social circle.

He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't resist: the man could never relent in his pursuit of knowledge on everything, even the private matters of his private lover.

 _We shouldn't have secrets, considering the nature of our relationship_ , Hamilton justified, and opened the letter.

 _John,_

 _Our little Frances Eleanor grows more like you each day. I wish you could be spared from your post to visit us, for she wants more than anything to meet her father. I, too, long to be reunited with you, it feels so long since I saw my dear husband. But I know you want us to stay safe in England rather than cross the ocean to be with you, so I will do as you ask. I know you're very busy, but don't forget to write, the only thing which helps my longing to be with you is seeing your words._

 _Forever missing you,_

 _Your Martha._

The world turned upside down, the entire room seemed to shake as half of his universe came crashing down around him. _Of course he was lying. He's always been lying. This could never last, of course it was too good to be true,_ the tornado of thoughts raced relentlessly through his head.

Laurens had a wife and a daughter who clearly cared about him. Which meant that every whispered confession of love, every promise, every touch was nothing to him.

He was blind and numb with shock, he didn't even register the solitary tear crawling down his cheek until he heard a voice:

"Alex? What's wrong?"

Hamilton turned to slowly face Laurens, his face consumed with shock and pain which he didn't know he was capable of feeling in response to the actions of that man. Then again, he would never have expected Laurens to do something like this, let alone deceive him over it.

Laurens' eyes fell upon the paper his lover was clutching on to, his hand obscuring the text. "Is it Eliza? Some complication with the baby?" He pressed, coming closer, eager to reassure, and kneeling in front of him. He reached for Hamilton's hands, and the other man flinched away, dropping the letter and looking straight ahead, at the wall beyond Laurens.

The kneeling man took the letter, his face immediately losing colour as he recognized not the handwriting but the names mentioned. A single word dropped from his mouth like a stone falling from a cliff: "Martha."

He understood the reason the man he loved was sitting there breaking apart. "Alexander, it's not what you think."

Hamilton responded, "How the hell can your being married be anything _but_ what I think?"

"She's not... We're not like a real couple, I only married her out of honour!"

"Is it _honourable_ to deceive the man you claim to love?" Hamilton asked, his voice outraged as he met Laurens' gaze.

"All I knew back then was that it wasn't honourable to run out on a girl you impregnated. I never planned to marry her, but how could I leave her with my bastard child?" He tried to stay calm as he explained himself, but as he reached the end of his statement he raised his voice and stood up, clenching his fists and turning away, guilt-ridden.

Hamilton just smiled bitterly. "So this is the point you decide tell me how opposed you are to bastards... Well, I think that proves how much of a liar you are." He, too, stood, walking towards the door, not to leave the room but to put the greatest possible distance between them.

"Don't say that, don't twist it, you know that's not what I'm saying!" Laurens pleaded with frustration.

"I don't know anything about you," Hamilton murmured quietly, coldly. His raging ocean of feelings tossed his mood from fire to ice and back again.

Laurens didn't know what to say, he could hardly form a coherent sentence, and ended up stuttering and starting over and over again, unable to pick the right words, before he eventually replied "Alexander, you know me better than anyone."

 _"Then why didn't I know that?"_ Hamilton shouted, unable to hold still, smashing his fist into the wall with a loud thud which made the entire room vibrate. His eyes were bloodshot with involuntary tears of heartbreak and fury, his conflicting emotions fighting a vicious battle within him as he ranged from heart-shattering pain making him want to weep and earth-splitting anger which made him want to hide how much he was hurting from the traitor.

Laurens barely recognized the man he saw, his hair messy and tangled, not in the sweet way it was in the mornings but in an unruly clump, made so by the way Hamilton ran his fingers through it in his distress. His face was red, not just with a demure hint of a blush on the cheeks but flooded with a ruby wash which appeared in uneven blotches across the skin. His eyes betrayed feelings Laurens had never know to exist within the man. But he knew the person he loved, the only person he loved, was still there.

"How could I tell you? It's not the best pick up line," Laurens replied, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"A _pick up line_? I guess all I ever was to you was a vessel for your meaningless sexual exploits, just like your dear wife," Hamilton replied, the bitter smile back on his lips as he shook his head in disgust, a cruel mockery of his usual joyful grin.

"Alex -"

"Hamilton," he corrected.

"Hamilton," Laurens started again, steadying his voice, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"And what of your family? Did you mean to hurt _them_? Do you even _care_ about your wife and daughter, living miles away and clearly longing to be with you? I mean, yes, _I'm_ being unfaithful to Eliza, but at least I know I still love her!"

Laurens looked away as he reluctantly explained, "I care about them. That's why I send them most of my salary. But I don't know if I love them. Martha Manning -"

"Martha Laurens."

"- was only ever a friend."

"Like _we_ used to be friends, you mean? Is this how you treat all of us?"

He ignored the snide comments as he continued, "I've never met Frances Eleanor. So how can I feel guilty about staying away from the wife I never wanted and the daughter I've never met?" His eyes were pleading and desperate, trying to hold on to the other man with the power of words alone. When Hamilton didn't respond, he pointed out, "I don't see why this is such a big deal to you! You're married too, you know."

"I do." He paused to laugh at the irony of the statement, before going on, "I know I have a wife, and I made a choice to be with you anyway, because I know I can protect her from being hurt by this. I never planned to upset anyone else, but your lies add two more innocent people, people I don't even know and couldn't ever explain this to, to the list of those we're betraying, and I never consented to that."

"I think you're just too proud to be content with me being with someone else according to the law." Laurens suggested, not resentful, just gently trying to convert Alexander to his point of view.

"For once this isn't about pride! This is about your lies!" Hamilton barked harshly.

Laurens complained, "I didn't lie!"

"Did you tell the truth?" Hamilton retorted.

"No, because I love you!" Laurens finally raised his voice to a shout.

Hamilton was silent. He started at the floor with such heat that you would assume it was his sworn enemy. His fingernails gouged dents into his palms. He forced himself to retain some semblance of composure as he spat the words, "You once warned me that women would take your money and give you nothing back, but the only reason you believe that is because _you've_ run away from your own wife and you give her money to ease your guilt, because it's easier than actually being there for her. Now here you are telling me that you have no regrets about leaving a woman without the man she loves and a child without a father. Now this all sounds very familiar to me..." Hamilton stated, walking towards Laurens, exuding venom in every step. He leaned in close to Laurens' face as he growled barely audibly, _"That's because you're just like my father."_

He turned sharply and walked away, slamming the door behind him as he left. Once out of Laurens' sight, he broke into a run, making his way quickly through the winding halls and out of the front door, the cool breeze of the night in early summer calmly greeting the tears he was no longer fighting to restrain. He let them pour, crumpling into a slumped figure, shaking on the floor among the dust. He didn't know how to feel. All he knew was that Laurens had betrayed all those he had sworn to love by being with him, and had enticed Hamilton himself to do the same. As he resolved never to return to the bed of the beautiful liar, he was oblivious to the fact that the man in question had thrown himself into that self same bed in his heartbreak and agony, wrapping himself in the sheets which held the comforting scent of his former lover and the contrasting cold temperature which reminded him of the hurt he had caused and the unavoidable truth that he would not be joined there by Hamilton again, and cried hard enough that his entire body shook.

But even if he'd know, what difference would it make? Laurens had been dishonest. How could he forgive when everything they had shared was built on a lie?


	16. Chapter 16 - Put what we had aside

**A/N hey reader! Quick question: I know where this story's going, and it's not too much longer, so I want to know how you feel about an epilogue. It will be able to work as a stand-alone one-shot, but it might bring the whole story down if I add it on here. So would you prefer me to make it a proper epilogue at the end of the story or give you the choice to read it or not and post it as a separate one-shot? Please comment if you have any preference, if not I'll just choose myself!**

 **Disclaimer: I am a talentless goose, LMM is an actual God. We are not one and the same, so I don't own Hamilton.**

* * *

Hamilton's father had left him, his mother had died, and since the age of twelve he'd been passed around from pillar to post between various relatives and family friends who treated him like his parents' abandoned luggage, forgetting to care about him, until he'd reached America and subjected himself to the mind numbingly busy pastimes of first being a student and then embarking on the career of an Aide de camp, which had robbed him of the chance to form a large circle of friends. And yet, throughout all his life, Alexander never felt more lonely than those weeks following his break up with John Laurens, when he was only ever metres away from the person who had once had the power to make him feel more needed and wanted than anyone else had ever achieved save for Eliza.

The next few weeks were awkward to say the least. Laurens slept alone in his bottom bunk, while Hamilton took the top bunk of the opposite bed, keen to stay as far away from Laurens as possible. The light, friendly conversation which had once been prevalent in their office was replaced with cold silence. Both men did everything in their power to spend as little time as possible in the bedroom, because it brought back memories of such happy times which now caused inconceivable pain to recall, but even so, when they retired each night, the sorrow overcame them both, and they cried their own silent, secret tears, mourning the death of their love and of their friendship.

Lafayette's letters to enquire as to what caused the change of circumstance went unanswered. When Mulligan had asked what had happened to cause the chasm between the two men to open, Hamilton couldn't bring himself to reply, while Laurens simply handed him the letter from his wife, leaving his friend to deduce the issue himself.

The shift was palpable even to those who'd had no inkling of their relationship; even Washington, who had always encouraged his men to focus on their work and made conscious effort to keep all of his acquaintances on strictly professional terms with him, commented on it. Laurens denied any purposeful effort at altering their friendship, laughing it off in that easy, casual way he was able to hide things. Hamilton simply defended any difference with the fact that there was growing tension all around, and that everyone was changing during the war. But they couldn't lie to themselves. Hamilton drowned himself in even more work, hoping to distract himself from Laurens and to please his colleagues enough to avoid their questioning.

Meanwhile, an emotionally broken Laurens felt certain he could never reconcile with the other man, even as friends, and began to look for a way out...

* * *

Laurens knocked cautiously on Washington's slightly ajar office door. The General looked up and invited the Lieutenant Colonel in with a nod of his head and a grunt. Laurens came to stand up tall in front of his desk.

"I've spoken with my father, Sir, and he has told me that he is willing to give me my inheritance in the form of a large number of slaves as soon as I need them," he stated.

"Congratulations. I suppose you tell me this information with your battalion in mind?" He checked.

"Yes, Sir."

"I see. And I assume you will need to leave us and visit your father in order to achieve your goals?"

"Yes, Sir. I don't know when or even if I'll be able to return, the fighting may become so severe that my soldiers and I have no choice but to join the fray down south instead of assisting you here."

Washington pondered this in silence for some time, a thoughtful look on his mild face. He eventually stood to deliver his verdict:

"You are of much use to me here, yet I can't justify denying you or our revolutionary brothers the opportunity you speak of. For that reason, I give you permission to fulfil your mission."

Laurens felt a sense of victory spark in his chest, though it was dampened by his belief that this was something Alexander should have shared with him. Nevertheless, he smiled with gratitude: he could achieve the very ambition he had always dreamed of - emancipating innocent people and recruiting them to fight in an honourable war beside the people who had wrongly stolen and abused them, proving themselves as equals and winning their own freedom and that of America. The hopes he had always longed to make a reality were within his reach, and not having someone to share that joy with shouldn't detract from how great a feat it was.

Washington shook his hand warmly, firmly, and as he was doing so, he made one last request: "Be sure to say goodbye to your friends... I know Hamilton would be disappointed if you neglected to do so."

* * *

Laurens was packing a small bag containing all the possessions he wished to keep. Despite his wealthy background, it wasn't a lot: an extra shirt, a pair of cufflinks from one of his sisters, a half-used notebook, a few hair ties, a quill Hamilton had given him for his birthday, and a handful of letters from various senders, including his former lover, and his estranged wife Martha Manning. He had yet to do what Washington had requested, and the night was drawing in. He was torn between obeying what could be a final order from a man he respected hugely, or making the departure easier on his own heart; He didn't think he could face the prospect of Alexander not caring about his leaving.

The decision of whether or not to speak to Alexander was taken out of his hands as the door opened and the man who forever occupied his thoughts walked in.

Both men were surprised by the unexpected company, after all neither man now went to the room unless they were completely desperate to sleep. Yet there they both were, by another twist of fate.

"Um... Hi," Hamilton muttered, never the kind of person to allow a long and uncomfortable silence to ensue without using his words to combat it.

"Hey," Laurens replied, realising with a twinge of pain that this was the first exchange they'd shared since Hamilton ended their affair.

Hamilton stared for a long moment, eyes clouding over, and turned away: he would wait until later to return.

"Alexander, wait," Laurens asked, knowing he had to face his fears. "I need to talk to you."

"I don't think _I_ need to _hear_ anything from you," Hamilton replied, his voice not betraying the sorrow in his heart.

"You need to hear this: I'm leaving," Laurens explained. His words pierced through Hamilton's shield of ice, and the man stopped, turned around, and faced Laurens with a blank look.

"Why?" He asked, confused at the sudden news.

"My father's giving me the men I need for my battalion, and I have to go to South Carolina to train them."

Hamilton nodded, struggling to find something to say; he seemed to lack the ability to force another word into the room which was brimming with heavy tension.

"I just thought you might like some warning," Laurens muttered, turning back to his bag to continue packing.

"Thanks. And congratulations," Hamilton replied, feeling as though he had to at least acknowledge the effort Laurens had put in to the plan.

Laurens stood and faced Alexander, abandoning his pretence at being uncaring, and said the words which he knew wouldn't make a difference to the man he loved: "I'm sorry, Alex."

Hamilton looked down, a tell-tale sign to someone who knew him well that he was upset. Sure enough, when he looked up again, he had tears in his eyes. "I know."

The first stirrings of hope appeared inside Laurens. He hadn't rejected the apology, he hadn't left the room, he hadn't swore or told him to go screw himself...

Tentatively, Laurens asked, "Can you forgive me?"

Alexander considered it, a crease in his brow appearing in reaction to the emotional war taking place between his head and heart. In the end, he settled on the ambiguous response, "I wish you didn't have to go."

Laurens raised an eyebrow at the unexpected reply, nonetheless taking the inconclusive answer as an invitation to continue talking to him. "Now that you've said that, I do too."

"Then stay, we could... we might fix this," Hamilton suggested, the hint of a plea entering his words.

"I can't... it's already arranged," Laurens informed him, his regret obvious.

"I understand," Hamilton murmured, going to sit resignedly on the spare bottom bunk which once belonged to Lafayette.

"Hey..." Laurens fumbled for a way to carry on the conversation, unwilling to let go when it had taken three weeks and the decision to leave to get this far, "you know, I'm sure your father still cares about you."

 _Way to save a conversation, Jacky, reminding him of how horrible he finds you,_ he chastised himself silently with the patronising nickname his family always used when he'd been particularly foolish.

But it worked better than he expected. Alexander looked up at him and revealed, "I know _I_ still care about _him_." He stood and walked towards Laurens as he went on, "however much he hurt my family and I, he's still such a huge part of my life..."

Laurens' heartbeat began to quicken. "I wasn't just talking about your father," he revealed softly.

"Me neither," Hamilton breathed, looking deep into Laurens' eyes for a few fast heartbeats. He reached for Laurens' hands and held them between his own.

A slight shiver ran down Laurens' spine at the contact, and his eyes widened. "Alexander, I -"

"Shut up," Hamilton muttered, and pushed his lips into Laurens', aggressively kissing him with all the passion and pain and betrayal and love the man had ever made him feel, and Laurens gladly accepted the fierce mouth and probing tongue, relieved just to be sharing this with Hamilton again. It didn't last long, and soon Hamilton pulled away, breathless from the swift action.

"Alex, I'm so sorry, and I want -"

"I know, I know, you want to make it up to me, you regret lying, etcetera, I don't care. I hate you for hurting me like that, but that doesn't matter because you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I have to forgive you."

"" _Love"_? After all this?" Laurens asked, shocked that Hamilton could even continue to have some vague affection for him, let alone love him when he knew how much he'd upset the man.

Hamilton nodded, and immediately Laurens learned how to smile again, his face shining with the great warm grin that his lover had always adored. He hugged him tighter than ever before, relishing the feeling of being reunited after what felt like an eternity apart.

"I know you have to go, but do you have some time?" Hamilton asked, reluctantly releasing Laurens from his iron grip.

Laurens smirked and took Alexander's hand, pulling him on to his bed as he flopped down there himself. "For you, I can spare a while."

* * *

 **A/N aww, a brief reconciliation! Yeah, let me know your thoughts on an epilogue or not, and thanks for reading! Not long to go now!**


	17. Chapter 17 - I know I don't deserve you

**A/N: guysss please tell me what you want me to do about an epilogue! I don't want to do something that really annoys you! Anyway, the Grammy performance, right? Amazing! And the acceptance speech was so cute! I'm so proud of the entire cast and crew, it's unbelievable how far they've all come! Anyway, I'm getting sappy, so let's get on with this!**

 **Disclaimer: I wish I owned Hamilton, but sadly I don't :( if I did it would be much more gay tbh.**

* * *

Hamilton fell on top of Laurens heavily, but he wasted no time in complaining - they had already wasted too much time not talking, and now there was barely any left before they were separated again. Hamilton pushed Laurens so that he was laying down and quickly leaned in to kiss his mouth, adjusting to the sensation which had become unfamiliar since their split. Always one to adapt quickly, Hamilton easily found the best position to allow him to undress his lover without losing the contact between their lips. Meanwhile, Laurens' hands roamed across his body like brave explorers returning to a forgotten utopia, appreciating every curve, every rise and fall of Alexander's restless form, sensually caressing his chest and bum and shoulders, slowly working his hands between the fabric and the flesh and slipping the garments off, hungry to reach the sweet treasure he'd been denied for so long.

As much as he loved the taste of Alexander's skin, Laurens couldn't afford to spend long kissing and sucking the soft surface, leaving his marks of ownership dotted all over him as he loved to do. Instead, he rolled them both over and brought his mouth to the inside of the other man's thigh, looking up at Hamilton as he left a single purple love bite blooming into flower.

"Something to remember me by," he smirked once it was done, moving to straddle Hamilton's hips.

"As if I could forget!" He replied playfully.

"I'm going to make sure you don't," Laurens murmured suggestively, moving his body against Hamilton's, letting the lust finally take hold and consume them both as their passions were released after so long in an ecstatic blur of sweat and love and fire...

* * *

A man as headstrong and egotistical as Hamilton had only ever discovered one reasonable justification for ending up on his knees, and seeing John Laurens gasp in pleasure in reaction made it worthwhile. He rose to his feet and kissed his open mouth, relishing the feeling of catching him off guard. When they finally pulled apart, both men were breathless.

Eventually Laurens teased, "absence must really make the heart grow fonder, or else you've been practicing."

Hamilton laughed, pulling his trousers on and replying, "no chance of that. You're the only person I'd ever get on my knees to impress - in any situation!"

"Mmm, I guess that makes sense for my angry soldier..." Laurens mused, starting to dress himself, too.

"Which means it must be the absence thing... Which also means it should be even better next time we meet," Hamilton suggested.

The reminder of their upcoming separation cast a gloomy shadow over the light scene.

"Alexander..." Laurens began, half heartedly chiding with the tone of his voice.

"Don't," Hamilton replied, serious now, "please don't ruin this."

"Alex, I'm leaving for who knows how long, and I'm going to end up on the battlefield. I just don't want you to be disappointed if... Something happens to make it impossible," Laurens explained reluctantly.

"Like if you die? I'd be more than 'disappointed' if that happened anyway, you're my best friend!" He retorted, frustration and despair combining as he turned and began pacing round the small space, unable to stand still.

"Well what if the war ends before we meet again? I don't expect you to - actually, I wouldn't _ask_ you - to sneak around when you're back with your wife, I know you love her too much for that. So where does that leave us?"

"It still leaves us in love, so we'd find a way to make it work!" Hamilton replied, leaning his head against the door and losing some of his words as he mumbled into the wood. He closed his eyes, unable or unwilling to see a world where Laurens might be right.

Laurens felt guilty for worrying Hamilton.

 _He's right, we're in love for God's sake, that has to count for something. Maybe that could transcend all boundaries in our way?_

Either way, he wouldn't leave Hamilton as upset as he clearly was now.

He crossed the small distance between them, his bare feet allowing him to do so silently. Caught unawares, Alexander shivered as Laurens wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his waist, pressing their bodies together and softly kissing his neck.

"Please don't be mad at me," Laurens murmured between kisses, the vibrations of his voice slightly tickling Hamilton.

"I could never be mad at you," Hamilton sighed with a resigned, sad smile. "Just a tiny bit heartbroken."

"You don't have to be," Laurens replied, squeezing his body a little between his strong arms, "My heart will be with you, even if _I_ can't be."

Hamilton twisted around in Laurens' embrace to face his love. "I'm afraid I'm out of humour with the world. I'll never forgive it for taking you away from me," he revealed.

"Well, you plan to take on the world at some point anyway, I'm sure you'll teach it a lesson," Laurens joked, raising a chuckle from Hamilton.

"You have to stay alive for me, okay?" Hamilton asked, intense as he gazed intently into Laurens' eyes, close enough to see all the familiar colours and patterns within them which he knew so well. "I know you're reckless and crazy, but you have to come back to me, you have to stay alive and meet my son and help me take on the world, I _know_ we can do it together," he implored, his voice halfway between begging and ordering his lover.

He didn't want to promise something he couldn't guarantee, especially when he'd already betrayed Hamilton once and seen how it destroyed him. But he wanted so badly for Alexander's plea to become a reality that he had to agree.

"Okay. I'll be careful, and I'll be with you again," he murmured, shoving down his ominous doubts about being able to come through on the vow to smile reassuringly. It was a sweet, tender smile, he wasn't hiding behind bravado and arrogance anymore, he wasn't striving to impress the other man by showing off and flirting relentlessly. He was stripped of every emotion and thought but love, showing the other man the open door to his soul and letting him look in and see his bare heart, knowing that Alexander wouldn't look away in fear or disgust, and would embrace the pure, unadulterated adoration he had for him.

Hamilton had to swallow his bittersweet tears, because he knew that the image of seeing him cry upon his departure would haunt Laurens, making him feel guilty enough that he'd end up hating himself or worse, distracted enough that he'd make a stupid mistake and get himself killed. He forced himself to concentrate on the obvious love which John had for him instead of the fact that the physical representation of that love would shortly be taken away from him.

"Take care," he said, smiling through his pain.

"I will. You too, Alex, make sure you don't work yourself to exhaustion" Laurens replied, planting a final, soft kiss on Alexander's lips. There wasn't any of the fiery electricity of two passionate forces colliding which normally accompanied their kisses. There was just longing, as if they were already apart and wanted desperately to be together again. Uncertain of what to say, they just stood there in silence, committing the beautiful image of each other to memory:

Laurens' hair, tightly pulled back and into a ponytail which just reached his neck, the majority of his brunette curls confined to reveal his face, though some had been released to fall and frame it delicately in the heat of their passionate exchange minutes ago. His face itself was covered with scattered constellations, the brown freckles infinitely more beautiful than the stars in the sky. His lips had a perfect curve and looked just as soft as Hamilton knew they were. And the pinnacle of the image had to be those stunning eyes, which captured all the intelligence and wit which had been there the first night they met, though they now held the additional love he felt for the man before him.

Alexander's hair fell in loose, shiny waves around his shoulders, capturing a level of movement he'd only seen before in the sea. His dark eyes were wise and held unimaginable wisdom, and had the power to convey enough silent words to constitute a conversation. Despite the worrying bags under his eyes, they still seemed alert and able to take on any challenge. His short, neat beard, which he knew felt warm and comforting rather than coarse and scratchy, commanded attention to his lips, which were presently set in a pout of disappointment to be losing the man who held half of his heart.

A shout, unnervingly close, disrupted the intense scene, "Laurens! I thought you were leaving!"

Both men sighed at Washington's outburst from the other side of the door. "Yes, _Dad_ ," Hamilton muttered jokingly, playing into the role the General had assigned to him in his life and making Laurens laugh.

"Come on, you're walking me out," Laurens stated, stepping away from Hamilton to put on his Jacket and letting Hamilton find his shirt.

* * *

It was almost dark outside, but the presence of pink streaks in the sky left behind from the recent sunset didn't stop the stars shining above, resilient.

Washington was the only one accompanying the two young men.

"Laurens, thank you for your service. Good luck in South Carolina," he said, shaking Laurens' hand and taking a step back, giving them something like privacy.

"Good luck," Hamilton stated, unable to say any of the passionate, adoring words running through his head with Washington standing within earshot.

"Don't forget to write. Or sleep," Laurens reminded, smiling, knowing Alexander's affections without the other man disclosing the details explicitly.

"I promise I won't," Hamilton replied, "as long as _you_ keep your promise to _me_."

Laurens smiled and hugged him, not caring if Washington thought it was odd for two men to cling to each other so tight, to lean in and breathe in the scent and memorize the feeling of holding and being held by the one you love.

They broke apart and Laurens quickly turned away to hide his tears. He mounted the horse and kicked it into motion, knowing as he was riding towards his dreams that he was also riding away from his love.

Washington returned inside and left Hamilton staring into the distance, where Laurens gradually became smaller and smaller, until finally he couldn't make him out through the darkness and his tears.

Even though he knew it wasn't going to be forever, it still felt like Laurens was as far away as the stars - or further, because he could _see_ the stars. Laurens was too far away even for that.


	18. Chapter 18 - Only be a moment away

**A/N: GAY LETTERS GAY LETTERS GAY LETTERS!**

 **Some of these are real, some of these have real parts, and the other parts? Well, considering the fact that lots of Hammy and Laurens' letters have mysteriously "disappeared" or been scribbled all over, who's to say the rest of the letters isn't an accurate representation? (Me, I am. This is so inaccurate but I really don't care because loOK AT MY BABIES WRITING GAY LETTERS!)**

 **And thanks for your thoughts on an epilogue!**

* * *

 _Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that 'till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent of the caprice of others. You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me._

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton_

Hamilton scribbled restlessly the thoughts of love which babbled clumsily and endlessly through his mind like a calm, comforting stream. He was being soft, that he knew, but he had bared himself to Laurens both physically and emotionally, so he was also sure that the man wouldn't be judgmental. He knew Laurens didn't appreciate any obfuscation of the truth, and his letter was undeniably opposite to that - revealing his desire to regain the proximity which would allow him to present his adoration in the most obvious way was definitely not reticent - and his words of longing meant even more considering the fears they had shared just before Laurens left. It wasn't poetry, but it was raw and honest enough that it came across equally romantic as some meticulously arranged sonnet. It was almost symbolic of their relationship, he considered: unplanned but nonetheless loving and intense.

* * *

 _My dear Alexander,_

 _All is well here. The soldiers march as well as any others, the final blatant proof to me that all misconceptions the socially elite have about their race is false - not that we didn't already realize this ourselves. The fair skies contrast with the turmoil within my heart at being apart from you, as I'm sure you should be aware without me reminding you, as you know the feelings I carry for yourself. I read your letter with great joy, as it inspired such desire within me to be with you again, in every sense - I'm sure you know what I mean by that. I remain, Alex,_

 _Yours ever,_

 _John Laurens_

Since returning to South Carolina, Laurens had been swept up in a whirlwind of relentless action, enough almost to distract from the incessant nagging at the back of his mind which constantly whispered concerns about Hamilton: _Does he miss you? Is he thinking about you right now? Does he need you there with him?_

The letter was a comforting confirmation of the fact that Alexander did indeed miss him, yet the pristine language surely suggested that he was coping with the separation. The idea reassured Laurens. Less reassuring was the rushed reply he scrawled out hurriedly. It wasn't a long verse littered with words of devotion as Hamilton's had been, but Laurens barely had time to breathe before another task demanded his attention, so it was the best effort he could muster in the situation. He reluctantly had to settle for a minimal effort... but that didn't reflect his feelings, just his drive and determination to reach his goal. Hamilton would understand.

* * *

 _My dear Laurens,_

 _I am relieved that you are finding ratification of our shared views in your work, meanwhile mine becomes ever more swarming when I have no one to share the heavy burden with. There is talk of moving our troops to join Clinton's, something I hope might give me a chance to reach the battlefield you know I long to fight upon. Otherwise, I feel completely useless here, alone. Clinton's movement and your march in consequence, made me wish to be with you; if any thing important should be done in your quarter while I am doing daily penance here, and making successless harangues, I shall execrate my stars - and be out of humour with the world. I remain, my dear,_

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton_

Alexander had waited impatiently for Laurens' response, desperate not only for word from his lover, but also for any distraction from the perpetual prison that was his desk, complete with enough work to sentence a normal man to a life sentence in order to complete it all. Luckily for him, his quick mind was intelligent enough to handle it. Unfortunately, his mind was too ambitious, in that it longed for something new and different from the repetitive cycle of writing a multitude of items for Washington. The letter was a welcome distraction for the mind and heart. Yet it seemed long overdue: it felt like Laurens had taken an age to respond... or perhaps it was a delusion created by his mind which stretched each day into weeks and months.

But he was certain that the gap following his second letter was not a figment of his imagination. Although Laurens was sure to be busy, didn't he have time to spare for his best friend? Well, more than a best friend: Alexander had the power to reduce him to a sweaty, aroused man squirming desperately, breathing heavily, his fingers and toes curling as they grasped at the bed sheets, while his lips cried out his name in pleading desperation to be consumed...

Hamilton smiled smugly as he recalled the image. It was enough to prompt him to write another letter - after all, he needed a distraction from his own renewed lust caused by his memory.

 _My dear Laurens,_

 _I know you are busy, but I worry for you when you are away, so you must keep me updated on your condition. I wish we could be reunited so that I could put to bed my constant fears for you, and could also take you to bed yourself. I remember with warmth and excitement the times we have shared, and I hope you do, too - if you regard it with the same affection I do, it will be motivation enough to convince the stars to let you honour your word to me. I hope you can forgive me for writing so often and so suggestively, but you ought to reply if you want me to control myself, or my feelings are bound to come spilling out onto the page in an intense fervour. But you must remember that I don't only care about how you feel for me, I also want to know what is happening in your life, because I enjoy anything concerning you. Write soon, my dear J._

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton_

Again, weeks passed with no response. He knew that if the unthinkable had occurred, he would've been made aware. That meant Laurens was ignoring him.

 _After seeing how complicated not confessing how we felt made things, he's still choosing to play hard to get,_ Hamilton thought, slightly irked by Laurens' silence. He knew how demanding his work must be, but couldn't he find even a moment to write?

Hamilton's loneliness was starting to affect his mentality, too. He had been an eternal cynic from the moment he saw how cruel the world could be, yet he had always managed to maintain a relatively cheerful demeanour, coming across as someone who was generally in high spirits. But longing and missing the man, as well as his wife, had lent a decidedly dark shadow to his personality. He felt hopeless, as if he were as fighting for a lost cause... Not America, but himself.

 _My dear Laurens,_

 _I begin to lack motivation. I miss you like I miss my wife, and I dream of being with you again. It seems your correspondence is nothing more than a dream too - why must you deny me the pleasure of your words? Anything will suffice, regardless of what the subject is. I only wish to see your writing. I understand how you must be pressed for time, but I beg you to abandon your silence, as it is enough to drive a man mad. You are the only redeeming factor of this earth, but from here, I cannot compel you to indulge me with a single letter. I am chagrined and unhappy but I submit. In short Laurens I am disgusted with every thing in this world but yourself and very few more honest fellows and I have no other wish than as soon as possible to make a brilliant exit. 'Tis a weakness; but I feel I am not fit for this terrestrial country._

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton_

* * *

The final sentence was enough to break through the wall Laurens had built between his duties to his country and his duty to his own heart, which of course was miles away with Hamilton. The wording sent a shiver down his spine as he realized what was meant by it: Alexander felt he might soon die without his attention.

"Alex, you melodramatic idiot..." He muttered under his breath, before submitting, "you win."

He plucked a fresh piece of paper and began to write:

 _My dear Alexander,_

 _Your letter caused me great distress. Surely you know I am only reluctant to reply because I am so distracted by our separation that my work life feels so tedious that it holds nothing of interest? I meant no offense to you, I simply wished to save you the boredom. If all I can speak of is work, which is much the same as last time, I would be left repeating time and time again that my battalion is growing in strength and I am sure they will fight valiantly and brilliantly on the battlefield. The only thing which is of any interest is the fact that of course I feel the same way as you do - my dear boy, I relish the hope of the moment we meet again, when I can finally hold you and be with you and love you with all the passion in the world._

 _Yours ever,_

 _John Laurens_

* * *

As relieved as he was to receive the letter, he couldn't resist telling Laurens exactly how wrong he was: he could never be bored when it came to him. He ignored his half-finished report to immediately scold his lover:

 _My dear Laurens,_

 _That you can speak only of your private affairs shall be no excuse for your not writing frequently. Remember that you write to your friends, and that friends have the same interests, pains, pleasures, sympathies; and that all men love egotism. I acknowledge but one letter from you, since you left us, of the 14th of July which just arrived in time to appease a violent conflict between my friendship and my pride. I have written you five or six letters since you left and I should have written you more had you made proper return. But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful bastard. But you have now disarmed my resentment and by a single mark of attention made up the quarrel. By the way, we are soon to make a move: if Lafayette endorses my request, I shall soon find my glory on the battlefield at Yorktown. I remain, my dear J,_

 _Your affectionate_

 _A. Hamilton_

* * *

He was happy for him, but he had to laugh at the scathing lecture he had delivered. _As if he's suddenly some wise authority figure_ , Laurens thought, _really he's nothing but a big child._

But infinitely more significant was the final detail: Hamilton would be going to Yorktown. It was a place he had considered attacking himself, and knowing the sorry state of Washington's troops, his assistance there would be appreciated... He didn't even try to deceive himself into believing that was his main motive for going, however. His main motive was his desire to see Hamilton again. He wrote immediately and with huge enthusiasm:

 _My dear Alexander,_

 _I apologise profusely for the insult I have caused, and I assure you I will not let it happen again. I must congratulate you on your future victory which is as good as guaranteed - if Lafayette can get you on the battlefield, I'm sure you will thrive. But you won't be alone, because for some time I have considered going to Yorktown with my troops myself. That you will be there is all the motivation I need. I look forward with great anticipation to our reunion, which surely must be soon. Until then, I bid you adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate_

 _Laurens._


	19. Chapter 19 - The eye of a hurricane

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while, I've been kinda busy with school and other stuff. Also I guess I should admit that I've sort of been procrastinating because I don't want this story to end! I've loved writing something longer, and bringing my boys through this whole storyline I've chosen - literally, writing is so exciting, and I didn't fully realize that until now. Well, we're very nearly finished, so I hope you enjoy this! Thanks so much for wasting your time reading my work, by the way, I so appreciate it!**

 **Disclaimer: Maybe one day I'll create something as great as Hamilton, but that day is not today. I don't own the show or any characters.**

* * *

The late summer evening immediately became brisk and cool as soon as the fiery sun had sunk below the horizon, but the excitement of the soldiers, traveling on horseback to the destination of their planned attack, set the air on fire, adding an electric atmosphere to the blue skies and black landscape.

Hamilton's horse thundered along at the rear of the group, making sure to keep track of any men falling behind. The uneven thumping of hooves beneath him echoed the erratic drumming of his own heart against his ribs, spurred into motion by both the anticipation of what was to come and the physically demanding ride which had already lasted for over a week. Now the end was in sight, the army was predicted to reach Yorktown later on that night.

From within the near darkness, two men of their own party emerged, scouts sent ahead to warn of upcoming obstacles. They went straight to Washington, at the head of the group, and relayed information Hamilton was too far away to listen in on. He quickly got an inkling as to what might be the issue, however, when a few specks of orange, unmistakably the torches of another battalion, appeared in the distance. He reached instinctively for the gun at his hip, his fears of an enemy attack sending a surge of adrenaline through his veins. The lights increased in size - they were clearly coming closer at quite a pace - but the General showed no intention of slowing down to briefly warn his men of a fight.

 _They must be patriots instead of redcoats_ , Hamilton realized. First came his disappointment at having to postpone his chance to fight. Then came the wave of hope that, just maybe, one of his friends might be among the approaching troops. He was longing for one in particular, but he'd settle for any of the lads: the loneliness since his lover had departed had made him desire a meeting with any one of his closest allies.

It barely seemed another sixty seconds before they were near enough to make out the silhouettes of soldiers riding on horses as they fell in alongside Washington's army. The lack of sunlight made it impossible to distinguish any individual faces or uniforms of the newcomers, and no details could be established other than clearly they were on the same side.

Hamilton didn't need perfect vision to recognize the voice coming from the rider who had taken his place beside him:

"Alexander Hamilton... I've missed you."

"Laurens! You're..." The voice had taken him completely by surprise, and in his dumbfounded shock he struggled to form even a single sentence.

"Here? Alive? The most amazing man to ever walk the earth?" Laurens offered his speechless friend teasingly.

"A selfish prick," Hamilton selected to finish his phrase, "do you know what it's like going out of your mind wondering if you're okay?"

"I'm hurt!" Laurens gasped, feigning horror as he raised a hand to his heart in mock innocence.

"Of course you are," Hamilton jokingly complained. Taking the sting out of his words, he added quietly, "but you _may_ also be 'the most amazing man to ever walk the earth', as you so modestly put it."

He could hear the suggestive smirk in his voice as Laurens replied, "We both know you like me to be the very _opposite_ of modest, Alexander."

The weeks of separation and abstinence led Alexander to blush like a maiden at the comment - he felt the familiar heat rising up to his cheeks, but thankfully the near darkness hid his crimson face from Laurens. The cloak of darkness was a blessing to both men - Hamilton because it obscured his obvious adoration for his comrade, and for Laurens because it saved him from going out of his mind with lust at the thought of the power he already had over Hamilton without even laying a finger on him, and the dreams of how strongly he would react to anything more intense.

Both men were relieved for the thunder of hooves on dry ground as the two battalions proceeded side by side on their way, as it meant their conversation was saved for their ears only.

"Any idea what the accommodation will be like?" Laurens enquired, his still-flirtatious voice asking a different question completely: _will we have a room alone to be able to make love?_

Hamilton picked up on the true intention, but he couldn't answer either the words themselves or what was written between the lines. "I have no idea," he responded, reluctant to appear anything less than a fountain of knowledge to his lover. "I only heard they've already built a trench, so it might be kind of... crowded." His real answer to Laurens' unspoken query: _probably not._

* * *

They arrived at the trench in less than an hour, and already the sky had shifted to an almost coal black shade. As feared by Hamilton, the men were all ordered to bed down side by side in the primitive trench which had only been completed the day before by the soldiers already there. As soon as they'd been told, Laurens had slipped away from his side, murmuring something about settling his men in. Alexander was blatantly frustrated at being denied the privacy to uphold Laurens' vow, but he resigned himself; He was so pleased just to be united with John once again that the lack of sex didn't seem like such a harsh blow. What they shared went deeper than erotic passion anyway: they were united in mind and heart, so even if their bodies weren't permitted to collide that night, simply being there together was enough.

Or so he thought, but it seemed Laurens had a different idea. As Alexander was rummaging in his pack for the thin blanket provided to all the soldiers, his lover materialized beside him once more and wordlessly reached into the bag and found his hand. He wrapped his own around it, glancing at Alexander as he did so and touching a finger to his lips, a request for silence. Hamilton didn't need to be told - the majority of the army was laying before them, either sleeping or gradually dozing off, and any noise would alert them. So he allowed Laurens to lead him away from the throng of tired soldiers and to the end of the trench. By that time, there was surely no threat of a British bullet soaring through the darkness to hunt them out, the enemies were likely sleeping. Even so, Laurens glanced around briefly before clambering up to ground level, not releasing Alexander's hand as he followed.

Out of earshot of their comrades, Laurens murmured, "I swore I'd be with you again."

Misunderstanding, Hamilton tried to assure him, "You didn't break your promise, you're here and that's fine."

Smirking, Laurens replied, "Poor Alexander, so innocent... What I'm trying to tell you is that I intend to come through on my word. This way." He continued to lead Hamilton across the rugged grassland in the opposite direction of the redcoats, behind the safety of their own trench. They were a few hundred yards from their own men when Laurens stopped, and Alexander saw the scene his lover had arranged:

A blanket laid out on the floor, a small area encircled by particularly high grass, adding a sense of seclusion to the space. On the blanket, some candles, each burning at different heights, illuminated the area in a warm, comforting orange glow.

Hamilton looked up at Laurens, not quite able to believe that the man had gone to such lengths to keep his promise - after all, it was quite a trek from the trench, and sourcing spare candles was no easy task during a revolution, especially when Laurens was prone to using them at an impressive pace by working well into the night. Laurens hadn't pulled his eyes away from his lover, and as Hamilton's gaze met his, he blushed slightly, embarrassed by showing his sensitivity in that way.

Noticing, Alexander rolled his eyes but decided not to mock Laurens for his rosy cheeks. Instead he teased, "is this what you call 'settling my men'?", quoting Laurens' earlier excuse to disappear.

"It's settling the one man that matters," he remarked, grinning, delighted that Alexander obviously appreciated the effort.

"Then I guess we'd better get down to it," Hamilton replied, and Laurens took that as an invitation to sit down on the blanket and pull Alex down on top of him, perched across his hips as he kissed his lover and immediately began disrobing him, too anxious to touch his familiar, warm skin to waste time with buttons and instead rushing to recklessly tear his shirt open. He immediately pressed his palms against Laurens' exposed chest, pushing the man to lay down. With a satisfied smile at returning to someone he adored so deeply, Laurens reached up and undid Hamilton's shirt in a calmer way, taking his time to enjoy the sight he'd missed. He pushed the garment from his shoulders and Hamilton pulled it off, discarding it, before leaning in to kiss Laurens again, their mouths curved upwards in matching smiles at the near delirious disbelief they both had that this was actually happening.

Laurens moved to fumble with Alexander's belt, and months of practice allowed him to easily achieve his mission. He slipped his hands onto the smooth skin of Alexander's hips and traced tiny, ticklish circles, causing Hamilton to break their kiss with a suppressed giggle. His spine curved in complete joy at being touched that way, pushing his naked chest even more heavily into Laurens'. No words needed to be said, as both knew exactly how much the other man valued that experience.

Laurens gripped on to Hamilton's hips and rolled them over, placing himself on top so as to kiss the entity of the other man's upper body and pepper the blank canvas with love bites, something he'd missed out on last time. Hamilton happily allowed the man to work his way across his chest, closing his eyes and savouring the sensation. He was filled with relief, and just like Laurens he wanted for once to not be forced to rush hurriedly through, allowing the entire experience to completely submerge them as they made it last.

It was only when Hamilton began to tackle Laurens' belt, moments away from the final consumption, that they realized the gravity of the situation: the next day, both were heading on to the battlefield, neither with the guarantee that they'd return. This might really be the last shot.

Awash with the revelation, they froze momentarily in synchronization. Laurens gazed into Hamilton's eyes as he confessed, "I really do love you, Alexander Hamilton."

Alexander's smile held a hint of regret for all the wasted time over the period they had known each other. "I love you to, Laurens," he replied, unashamedly stroking a strand of Laurens' hair and wrapping it around his finger, adding something physical to the claim.

Finally allowing the completion of the act to begin, they smashed their lips together almost aggressively, and acted as though they were already under fire, with so much desperation to be with each other that they hardly seemed in control of their passionate movements.

Far above, the stars gazed down, watching the reunited lovers seize one moment of total unity, fearful that they may never get the chance again. The summer night was set alight by the two men, moving upon each other like the tumultuous waves of the ocean, with enough energy passing between them to cause a thunderstorm.


	20. Chapter 20 - The Battle of Yorktown

**A/N: Hey guys! This is the last official chapter and I'm so pleased we've made it this far! The epilogue is still to come, but for now, welcome to chapter 20! Thanks so much for sticking with me up to this point, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The grey dawn was silent, but the streaks of vivid pink light scarring the sky pierced through the mist of sleep, waking the two lovers in unison as they laid entangled together on the crumpled blankets, all the candles surrounding them completely burned to the wick and their clothes strewn carelessly around them. With a yawn, Laurens half pushed himself up, so he was sitting and leaning back on his elbows. He glanced around as far as he could see, and recognized with relief that it was too early for anyone to be moving around yet: it was bad enough to be out of the trench while your enemy fired at you, but another altogether more frightening thing to sneak back into the trench to then be greeted by a full battalion already awake and curious as to what exactly warrants two men to spend the entire night alone together.

"Time to get back?" He reluctantly checked, relying more on Alexander's judgment than his own. After all, he'd be tempted to sacrifice the whole operation to keep his lover laying there beside him.

Unfortunately, Alexander agreed, "Those redcoats won't slaughter themselves." He, too, had reservations about giving up this opportunity to spend more time with Laurens, but his ambition drove him to persue his work.

Laurens clambered to his feet, gathering his clothes. He found Alexander's trousers and threw them towards him carelessly with a playful smile which dared Hamilton to retaliate. Alexander never backed down from a challenge.

He seized the closest thing to hand, which happened to be Laurens' shirt, and tossed it back at the man. With a childish laugh, Laurens dived to the floor again and quickly hopped onto Alexander's chest, pinning him to the ground as he taunted, "You think you could take me?"

Alexander only smirked, and pulled Laurens' face down to his, murmuring suggestively, "I think I already have." He closed the short distance between their lips and kissed Laurens hard, the other man passionately returning the kiss and closing his eyes to treasure the sensation. When they broke away breathlessly, they were left staring into each other's eyes hungrily, adoringly. The almost surreal feeling of that moment made Alexander chuckle, and he lightly pushed Laurens off of his chest. "Come on, we've got to go and get the job done."

Laurens sighed resignedly and adjusted the last of his clothing. Hamilton swiftly changed too, and then they were making their way back towards the trench, silently crossing the moorland to avoid waking either their own soldiers or the British as they returned.

* * *

The pair returned just as the first patriots began to stir - just in time to give credibility to the fable that they had only just woken themselves to anyone who asked. Anyone except General Washington, that is, for he had already risen.

"Hamilton. Laurens," He quietly called both men to him, careful not to disturb the still-resting army. The young men jolted in surprise at being discovered, and reluctantly walked towards him with all the guilt of schoolboys caught stealing. The General regarded them coolly as they stood before him, neither daring to meet his eyes.

 _This is it. He's worked it out, he'll tell Eliza, we'll be disgraced if not killed,_ Hamilton thought, annoyed that they'd come so close to being completely inconspicuous.

"Good luck today," Washington said. Both men looked up at once, examining his face to search for the scorn both had expected. They found nothing but a glimmer of amusement at their blatant shock. "Come on now, boys. You look as if you've seen a ghost," he continued, poking fun at their total bewilderment. He clapped a firm hand on a shoulder of each man, giving up his attempt at humour to be replaced by sincerity. "I just want to let you both know that I'm proud of all you've done. We might actually win this war today, and it's because of your efforts."

Laurens was speechless. On behalf of them both, Alexander replied, "Thank you, sir."

Washington smiled and nodded, at once taking on a fatherly demeanour. Instead of shirking this, for once Hamilton didn't complain as Washington stated, "You're like sons to me, so I know you'll do the right thing on the battlefield. And... I know that whatever goes on in your personal life is the right thing for you too." He had to brace himself before saying the second part of that phrase, but he was glad he did: the boys he cared for were risking their lives for a cause they all believed in, and it mattered to the General that, should they fall in the battle to come, they knew that he was aware and accepting of their affair, a worthy achievement to come of his slight embarrassment from speaking the words aloud.

Completely unsure of what to say, Laurens and Hamilton only exchanged bemused glances. Washington hastily excused himself from the awkward atmosphere:

"I've got to rouse our men. You'd better prepare yourselves."

They nodded solemnly. Washington handed a letter to Alexander without a word, then left them. As soon as Washington was out of sight, both released the muffled laughter at the bizarre situation which had just occurred.

* * *

It was the final threshold, Alexander and John standing together at the edge of a precipice and ready to dive headfirst into the abyss, regardless of what waited at the bottom. Their battalions lined up around and behind them, waiting eagerly for the command.

Hamilton raised his hand, and it began.

The men rose at once over the trench wall, a silent tide dressed in matching navy blue uniforms. The dawn was still dim, the ground laced with an opaque layer of mist yet to be chased away by the sun. The soldiers followed in formation as Hamilton lead the way. Like all his men, one hand was clutching his gun, the other the cold metal bullets he'd removed momentarily. As soon as they drew close, he'd slot them back into the weapon and destroy as many Britons as possible, hitting them quick, getting out fast, the way he'd always recommended. Half way to the opposite trench, Laurens gestured silently for his men to split from Hamilton's: they would approach from the other side and together they'd encircle the enemy troops. Hamilton ignored the slight nag in his chest as Laurens parted, casting him a look over his shoulder and a wink before disappearing at the head of his battalion as it headed in another direction. Instead Alexander focused on the silent approach his men were making. They were almost close enough.

They'd nearly reached the other trench, there were as few as 10 paces before they stood directly above it; he shouted out the word which would trigger chaos:

"Rochambeau!"

At once a chorus of the clanking sound of metal moving against metal could be heard from his men as they pushed the bullets into their guns. Just as shouts of warning began to emerge from the trench, the men began firing, a cacophony of clicks and booms erupting into the grey morning.

A burst of adrenaline took hold of Hamilton, consolidating his always perfect aim, making him deadly with precision. The combat he'd been denied was finally here, and he was in charge of his men as he valiantly fought the invaders who'd persecuted the country which had adopted him for too long. He was ubiquitous, throwing himself into the fight, diving to avoid bullets flying in a million directions at once, firing his gun at the sight of any figure in red, lashing out with his knife or even fists if anyone got close enough. He breathlessly span around, searching for any redcoat who dared to pass him and attempt to escape his rage. In one glorious moment, he happened to catch a glimpse of Laurens at the exact moment he looked up. Their eyes met, and the energy was renewed, the men sharing a brief grin before jumping straight back into the action. The blur of sweat and blood and noise seemed to sweep them all up in a destructive hurricane until after a lifetime passed, all at once everyone froze in unison.

Gazing around to see what had caused it, Laurens caught sight of a man in red frantically waving a flag of white. They'd surrendered, which meant the patriots won.

A dreamlike atmosphere seized the battlefield, and things seemed to slow down: every single movement played out clearly and vividly around them. Redcoats scrambled away from the vicious attack of the patriotic force, tripping over their own feet and the limbs of dead comrades in their haste; Their own men looked around in dazed confusion, unable to quite comprehend that they had obliterated the foe so effectively; Injured men staggered in all directions as they retreated, their fellow wounded countrymen supporting each other as they made their way haphazardly back to the comparative safety of the trench, while unharmed men milled around as if establishing themselves as part of the land they had just managed to claim. And among it all, Laurens and Hamilton had eyes only for each other, staring across the scene of wreckage, completely blind to the sight of their newfound glory in favour of losing themselves in the familiar face which gazed back with all the pride and delight in the world.

Each heartbeat seemed to last a millennium as they made their way towards each other, walking among the wreckage, oblivious to all but the man on the other side. They wore matching grins of pure ecstasy, both recognized the significance of this victory. Surely no more major fights would occur following this, and that meant both were safe, free to go home and find some way to make sense of the rest of their lives.

When they finally came together, both threw themselves into the enthusiastic embrace, hooting and hollering with wild laughter as they jumped on the spot and held tightly to their lover. Before they were in love, they had been best friends, and as they celebrated they felt as completely united as the first time they met, when Laurens had immediately been drawn to the intelligent young student, and Hamilton had found himself doing everything he could to earn Laurens' approval. Only now, that feeling was amplified, the love they shared adding a spark of electricity to the already powerful friendship. Never could two people feel closer than they did in that moment.

When they eventually pulled apart, both men were breathless from the exhilaration of the fight and the intensity of their emotions. Briefly, they could do nothing but stare adoringly at one another, relishing the fact that they were simply alive and together. But the silence couldn't last long between two people so verbose.

"So what comes next on your rise to the top?" Laurens asked, sure he already knew.

Alexander confirmed his beliefs: "First, I'm going back to my wife. I've missed her terribly."

Laurens nodded, shoving away the hint of jealousy which threatened to taint the moment. Alexander had never denied the fact that he loved Eliza equally, and he knew he should be willing to share his love. Still, it seemed it was a sudden move for Alexander to go back home as soon as the fighting ended. Surely as soon as he got home he'd be straight in his office writing some kind of masterpiece - didn't the man deserve a short reprieve from work? So as his smile faltered Laurens suggested, "Can't you spare a few weeks, or days, even? We could take a break from all this for a while."

Hamilton broke eye contact, and his own smile softened with regret as he revealed, "I got a letter this morning. Eliza has given birth to a baby boy."

Laurens' eyes widened in renewed delight and he gasped with surprise. "Congratulations!" He was immediately taken with as much happiness as if the baby was his own son, because he knew how excited Alexander was about becoming a father and had to partake in that joy. And besides, he would never allow his lover's child not to be a part of his life, he cared about Alexander enough that the baby felt like it was his too. "So you're going to see them?"

Relieved to see Laurens' acceptance, he replied, "I have to. I _love_ them."

Realising he would be parted once again from Alex, Laurens struggled to maintain a smile. He was happy for him, but it would still hurt to be apart. Nevertheless, he submitted to the unalterable truth. "I know. It's good you do... I'd hate for you to make my mistakes."

Now the adrenaline had faded away, Hamilton became serious as he touched a hand to Laurens' arm and reassured him, "You know I have part for the public and part for you, Laurens."

Laurens smirked through the tears which threatened to well up behind his eyes. The rush he received from the battle made him particularly sensitive and emotional, and his voice was slightly thicker as he answered, "Yeah. I know."

Alexander could read the sorrow in Laurens' eyes, and it caused a glimmer of guilt to manifest itself in his chest. But he knew this was only a temporary goodbye, they'd be reunited soon. They'd been separated before, and in his eyes there was no point labouring over long goodbyes when something so brilliant waited for him at home. "I suppose I should leave as soon as possible," he explained, keen to return to his dear wife and meet his much-anticipated son.

Laurens nodded, holding back his bittersweet tears as he wished, "Have a safe journey. Give my best to your family, and be happy with them." Something about the way he was trying to suppress his emotions lent a sombre tone of finality to his words. But he began to walk away before Hamilton could question it.

Hesitantly, Alexander called after him, "We _will_ meet again, you know."

Laurens turned back to face him, still walking away, and gave Alexander his trademark flirtatious smirk. He was too far away for his love to notice the shimmer of emotion in his eyes. Instead Alexander was captivated by that beautiful mouth as he called back with his typical optimistic confidence, "Too damn right we will! And hey, maybe I can get to know Eliza a little better..." He winked as he added, "I might take you up on that offer you made on your wedding night!"

Hamilton laughed, trying to ignore the way his heart leapt giddily inside his chest at the thought of being with both of the people he adored so much. He bade him farewell with a raised waving hand and a shout of, "Until then!"

The last of his sadness chased out by the familiar joyful sound of Hamilton's chuckle, Laurens grinned and continued to walk away, calling cheerfully over his shoulder, "See you on the other side!"

* * *

 **A/N :') stay tuned!**


	21. Epilogue - See you on the other side

**A/N: Oh wow you guys... I've been procrastinating the end of this story for a few reasons: first and foremost, I've completely loved writing this, it's been so fun and writing something this long is a new experience for me, and I almost didn't want it to end! Your comments and kindness are so brilliant and really motivate me! Second, I've been fairly busy the past few weeks with school and coursework and mocks... But hey, that's life! The most important reason is waiting down below, and it made me almost not want to write this part...**

 **Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me on this story! I will definitely be writing more in the future - I'm currently co-writing a story with Minniemora which she's putting up on her account called "Who did I marry?" And I'm also trying to decide if my next story should be Philip x Theodosia or Angelica x Jefferson during their time in Europe? I don't know yet, but stay tuned! Anyway, here's the epilogue!**

* * *

John Laurens was distracted. He had found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his work when his heart was miles away with his lover, being part of Alexander's new family instead of fighting here. It felt that, hard as he tried, he was achieving little when his mind wasn't completely focused. Their separation hadn't been too long, but there was a constant ache in his chest as he longed to be with him, the wound of their parting raw and painful as soon as his mind even brushed upon it. But he was needed here with his soldiers, and he knew it was only decent to give Alexander some time with his wife and son to appreciate family life before he showed up again and caused the kind of emotional chaos which was certain to ensue.

 _There'll be plenty of time for us to be together as soon as the redcoats have all gone,_ he assured himself silently, jolting himself back to reality. He was at the head of a patrol, riding on horseback with a handful of his men in search of any British soldiers dragging their heels in their retreat. Not all had heard of the American victory at Yorktown, so there was every possibility that a few men lingered behind those who had left immediately following the battle. Compared to what he had already achieved, it was a dull job, but an important one nonetheless. He didn't blame Hamilton for rejecting his offer to stay with him a while - if he'd known that after the battle he'd be stuck doing this, he might've been tempted to make his own excuse to leave too.

 _What would you make of this, Alex? Knowing you, you'd probably just be so glad of the fresh air that you'd ignore how boring this is._

Was it too soon to write? He had never been as wordy as Hamilton, and if the man who had to be coaxed into setting down his quill of an evening hadn't written to him yet, surely that was a sign that there was no need to make contact so quickly. Which left him with no link to Hamilton. Which led him to imagine the negative outcomes the divide might cause that he could think of...

What if he realized just how deeply he loved Eliza? What if he changed his mind and wanted to end their relationship? What if he never wanted to see him again, even as friends, because it brought back memories of a life he wanted to forget? They were all illogical things to fear, Laurens knew, because Alexander was so stubborn that he'd never allow himself to stop loving Laurens; even if his abundant river affection ever ran dry somehow, he'd still love Laurens out of pure determination to prove he meant his promise. And yet, the separation was so heart wrenching that he couldn't help but consider what he thought were the worst possible outcomes of the split.

 _Alexander loves you, and you love him. That's enough,_ he assured himself, repeating it like a mantra in his mind until it sank in enough for him to believe it.

The other man had to love him - he wasn't the kind of man to do the kind of things Hamilton had done to him for anything less than complete adoration. He allowed a subliminal smile to stretch across his lips as he recalled:

Secret kisses being stolen at any moment of privacy, soft, warm, smiling lips pressing against his as they clumsily rushed to make the most of every second of seclusion; uncharacteristically shy glances across a crowded room just to see if the other man was doing the same; a twisting knot of bare limbs moving together almost feverishly in their passion as they consummated their love; most of all, those captivating, true eyes which ensnared his very soul as he uttered confessions of the thing Laurens was tempted to doubt.

The memories caused his heart to fill with renewed love, feeling as if the intense emotion was almost too much for his chest to contain, like his heart could burst in an instant. His pulse might simply cease to exist at any moment, his feelings of joy as he thought of Alexander were so consuming.

"Sir," a hushed voice hissed urgently, just behind him, forcing him out of his reverie. He spotted them immediately, the jackets a splash of blood on America's body. Only a few men, tired and slouching upon their horses, rifles held lazily at their sides. And closer than he would've liked, he'd been distracted enough that he hadn't even noticed them until they were only twenty metres or so away.

The redcoats noticed them now too, the horses brought to a halt suddenly as their riders warily examined the patriots from a distance. If they were expecting a fight, they wouldn't have stopped. They were resigned to their loss, and would keep moving.

And yet...

Laurens couldn't ignore the arrogance of them: loitering here even after they'd lost, and then not even having enough courage to confront those who discovered them head-on, instead stopping, submissive and weak, like guilty children attempting to avoid scolding by denying any wrongdoing. It ignited a flash of disgust inside him, the threatening kind of heat which seems to thrum ominously inside for a few minutes until it bursts out with a blaze of aggression.

 _Alexander wouldn't stand for this._

The transient thought was like a trigger being pulled inside his brain, and almost instantly he darted into action, a bullet of determination. He bellowed a command to his men as he reached for his own rifle, trusting them to do the same. The opposition quickly responded to the battle cry, gripping their own weapons securely. It didn't matter to him that the only thing the fight would achieve was his own pride and the knowledge that he'd not let these few redcoats mock his country. What mattered was doing the right thing - the thing which would earn the most respect from his comrades and, of course, Alexander. The world slowed down as he took aim...

A word of caution echoed briefly in his mind, Alexander's voice, a memory from before his duel with Lee:

 _"As long as you don't throw away your shot."_

He narrowed his eyes in silent agreement, his finger was clutching the trigger, millimetres from firing. But another shot rang out, stopping him immediately.

There was nothing to feel, there was only his mind racing in frantic circles, back and forth as if trying too late to flee from the bullet which had found him and made itself part of his body. His pulse was simply ceasing to exist at that moment, his feelings of turmoil as he thought of Alexander were so consuming. Images flashed momentarily through his panicking brain, heartbeats from his life dancing in front of him before being snatched away, the chronology wrong, each snapshot in the wrong place but somehow seeming so cruelly appropriate as he silently screamed at them, begging so desperately to change his waning life, erase that foolish mistake, escape his fate, make one final plea to his lover...

* * *

 _"You have to stay alive for me, okay?" Hamilton asked, intense as he gazed intently into Laurens' eyes, close enough to see all the familiar colours and patterns within them which he knew so well. "I know you're reckless and crazy, but you have to come back to me, you have to stay alive and meet my son and help me take on the world, I know we can do it together," he implored, his voice halfway between begging and ordering his lover._

* * *

 _I'm sorry, my love, my Alexander. I've failed you, but I swear I didn't mean to. I only wanted to make you proud._

* * *

 _He rushed at Laurens and grabbed his collar, pinning him to the wall as he hissed, "You're reckless and stupid, and insisted on risking two lives for no good reason!"_

 _"No good reason? You know that's not true, Alex. You know why I did it."_

 _Hamilton looked away, suddenly aware of their proximity and his own heavy, ragged breathing._

 _His smirk growing, Laurens murmured, "You know the unalterable affection I have for you. It's all for you, everything."_

* * *

 _Please, know that I meant it, Alex. I was trying to stand for something I believe in. I was doing it for you. I love you, Alexander Hamilton._

* * *

 _"Then stay, we could... we might fix this," Hamilton suggested, the hint of a plea entering his words._

 _"I can't... it's already arranged," Laurens informed him, his regret obvious._

* * *

 _I wish I could stay... I don't want to die, Alex. Alexander. Alexander, please, please forgive me._

* * *

 _"I could never be mad at you," Hamilton sighed with a resigned, sad smile. "Just a tiny bit heartbroken."_

 _"You don't have to be," Laurens replied, squeezing his body a little between his strong arms, "My heart will be with you, even if I can't be."_

 _Hamilton twisted around in Laurens' embrace to face his love. "I'm afraid I'm out of humour with the world. I'll never forgive it for taking you away from me," he revealed._

* * *

 _Oh God, I'm so sorry, Alexander._

* * *

 _Hesitantly, Alexander called after him, "We will meet again, you know."_

 _Laurens grinned and continued to walk away, calling cheerfully over his shoulder, "See you on the other side!"_

* * *

 _I didn't mean for this, Alexander, you know I don't want to betray you, but it looks like I can't keep my word this time. Please don't be angry, my dear Alexander._

 _Alexander, are you listening? I will wait, Alex, I'll be there, I promise..._

 _Alexander Hamilton..._

 _Alexander Hamilton..._

 _Alexander Hamilton..._

 _My love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side._


End file.
